


Crests and Courting

by euphoriccattos



Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, F/M, Fire Emblem: Three Houses Golden Deer Route, Fire Emblem: Three Houses Golden Deer Route Spoilers, Golden Deer Sylvain Jose Gautier, I promise, Loss, Loss of Faith, Love Triangle, Mutual Pining, Mutually Unrequited, Near Death Experiences, Rivalry, Slow Burn, Unrequited Love, i love claude and sylvain so much and i wanna know, i would just like to mention this is a sylvain main fic but stuff can happen, mostly one sided claude stuff, sylvain is a misogynist but he gets better trust me, they hate each other at first but oh man does it get good, theyre good friends, what if they were rivals
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-17
Updated: 2020-08-10
Packaged: 2021-03-04 00:40:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 10
Words: 56,122
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24764788
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/euphoriccattos/pseuds/euphoriccattos
Summary: Byleth is thrust into being a professor for students hardly any younger than she is. How is she supposed to teach them when she's hardly one for charisma? Especially when a certain red-head makes it so hard to teach.
Relationships: Sylvain Jose Gautier/My Unit | Byleth
Comments: 32
Kudos: 52





	1. A Chance Encounter

**Author's Note:**

> I want to go through the entire game to build up Fem!Byleth and Sylvain, since I found the supports to be a bit lacking, with all of them! I may do more, but for now, just Sylvain. I'm probably going to write pretty long chapters, with multiple perspectives, but I'll try to keep it to one perspective per chapter, and say which perspective it is in the notes. Also, sorry that it switches a little for this first chapter. 
> 
> Also, enemies to lovers. but not really enemies. they just fuckin HATE each other at the beginning. Hes an apparent skirt chaser and she shows no emotion. but obviously, OBVIOUSLY, theyre gonna get to know each other for real.

Chapter One: A Chance Encounter

She had been having that dream again. The green haired woman, her face a mask of uninterest, but with each blow, the facade breaking, as her men would fall around her, gasping finally, “Lady Seiros.” The man was annoyed. In a fit of anger, with one swing of his weapon, the entire battlefield was neutralized; all except for her, and for him. He grinned, staring at her, and her mask, finally breaking, revealing her anger, as she held her sword before her. She began slowly, as if in a trance, her heels clacking in the mud, until at last, she struck, nearly landing a blow. He caught her sword, until she was thrust back, and it seemed he had gained the upper hand. However, she gracefully landed on her feet, the move only making her angrier. She expertly blocked, until his sword was wrapped around hers, and she flung both weapons to the side. She ran up, and punched the man, knocking him back and keeping him there with a dagger. He snarled at her, and she let her own face level with his, anger mixing in her features.

“Tell me, Nemesis, do you recall the Red Canyon?” 

His eyes widened in recognition, and for the first time, he felt fear. But it wasn’t for long, as her blade came up, over and over, colliding with his neck, blood coating her porcelain skin, sobbing as she at last finished. His body was still beneath hers, and she breathed heavily, as her soldiers cheered at the victory. It didn’t feel like one, though. She clutched the enemy’s sword, close to her chest, and breathing, “He’s gone now, mother.” The gore of the sword stuck to her hands and face, but at last, she smiled, staring right into Byleth’s soul. In a blink, the scene changed, to a dark throne, with a slumbering girl, waking whilst rubbing her eyes in sleep. “Oh my… what could have brought you here?”

This was different. 

In all of her dreams, she had never been directly spoken to by the slumbering figure. She was always an observer, watching until she woke to the new day. All she could do was stare blankly at the figure. 

“You know, it’s quite rude to interrupt a moment of repose…” she trailed, regarding Byleth with annoyance. “Now come to me. I wish to have a look at you.” Byleth stepped forward, complying. Even if this was a dream, it felt wrong to disobey. The being was radiating power. 

“Hmm… I have not seen the likes of you before. Who are you, anyway?”

“I’m a demon.” Though not entirely true, Byleth did feel this way often. She didn’t show her emotions on her sleeve like most people; in fact, even her own father had trouble telling what she was thinking and speaking to her. It did well to aid her in card games, but aside from that, she felt disconnected. She never allowed her face to betray her emotions, and didn’t have many friends growing up because of it. Her visage had even gained her the title of the Ashen Demon to her other mercenaries. If this was a dream, what was the harm? It was simply how she felt. 

The girl in front of her did not seem pleased by her answer. “Do not deceive. You would do well to keep your wit in line.” Sheepishly, Byleth forced out that she was a mortal. “I see. Then you must have a name of sorts. Go on.” 

“Byleth.” 

The girl snorted. “Huh. I shall not ever grow accustomed to the sound of human names.” 

Whatever this dream was, Byleth no longer liked it. In the span of thirty seconds, she had been embarrassed and called out by this seeming child. Twice. 

“You must possess a day of birth as well. Beneath which moon and what day were you born into this world?” 

“I’m told I was born the 19th day of the Ethereal Moon.” 

Her eyes widened. “Well, wonders never cease! It seems we share our day of birth. How strange!” Her eyes fall close. “Hm… I suppose it’s time for… another nap… it’s almost time… to… begin…” her words were yawned and she fell back to sleep. The darkness closed in, and Byleth was shaken awake.

“Hey, time to wake up.” The scratchy voice pulled her to consciousness. She opened her eyes, greeted with the face of Jeralt, her father. When he had left, she got ready, buckling her armor together and at last throwing on the coat that hung around her muscular shoulders. When she exited her room, Jeralt was waiting for her. 

“Were you having that dream again?” He asked, passing her a cup of coffee. She didn’t particularly enjoy the taste but it certainly helped to oil her joints from the sleep that had hardened them the night before. 

“I was dreaming about a young girl…” 

Jeralt looked uncomfortable. He always was when she described her dream to him. “You’ve described her to me before. I don’t think I’ve ever met anyone like that.” He cleared his throat. “In any case, just put that out of your mind for now. The battlefield is no place for idle thoughts.” 

Oh, the speech about how focus on the battlefield was imperative to life and death again. Byleth knew this, of course. It was one of her best qualities, the ability to think with a clear head and strategize on the spot in the midst of battle. While she agreed that it was important, she  _ had  _ just woken up. When she decided to tune in again, he was reminding her of the mission they had, and how they had to leave at dawn.

“Of course.” 

When they were finally outside, however, they were interrupted by three individuals, who looked to be not much younger than Byleth herself was. They each bore a different color, with a cape around their back. The one closest to her wielded a bow, while the middle wielded a lance, with the sole girl wielding an axe. She was studying them, as Jeralt heard them out. 

They each looked to be nobility, but from where? They had to have been from different places, as they shared no similarities to one Fodlan nation, yet all their uniforms looked to be the same. The boy in yellow definitely stuck out. His tanned skin was in contrast to his forest green eyes, an earring adorning one of his ears. When he spoke, he made jokes, much to the others’ chagrin. He looked easygoing, and if not for his companions, Byleth would have thought him just a commoner at a passing glance.

The boy in blue was much more of what Byleth would expect of nobility from the Kingdom. He stood tall and straight, his posture radiating nobility and respect. His hair had been attempted to be gelled back, yet it had fallen over his face in strands, likely from the fighting he’d been doing. He was mostly quiet, yet his aura demanded respect. Byleth felt beneath him just from his presence alone.

The girl in red, however, was completely surprising, for different reasons. At passing glance, she looked like any typical noble lady, slim and thin, her hair adorned with ribbons on each side of her temples. However, her hair immediately made Byleth take notice. It was stark white, impossibly straight, long, and even. The girl clearly took immense care of her hair. Not only that, she wielded a battle axe. How she managed to lift it with her small frame, Byleth couldn’t tell. Where the boy in blue commanded respect, she radiated authority. Her violet eyes calculating Byleth as Byleth did the same to her. 

Before she knew it, they were battling, taking out bandits one after the other. They were each equally skilled fighters, showing near mastery of their weaponry, each striking true. Despite their age, they moved better than a lot of mercenaries that Byleth had worked with. They followed orders with ease, as they flanked the bandit leader, Byleth defeating him with the strike of her sword, subduing him. He laid against the dusty ground, and Byleth caught her breath. She hadn’t expected a fight so early in the morning.

Sheathing her sword, she turned to the fighters, until she watched with horror as something happened. The bandit leader leapt to his feet, his eyes narrowing at the girl. Her axe was sheathed, and the only thing she could get free was a knife from her belt. He rushed at her, and Byleth, before she herself realized what she was doing, pushed herself before the girl. The axe came down between her shoulder blades, but instead of the pain of death, all she felt was… nothing. Just the faint feel of pressure against her. She herself couldn’t move either, and in a disorienting moment, she was in front of the slumbering girl on the throne, yet again. But this time felt wholly different. She was awake. She was battling. She must be dead.

The girl was angry. “Honestly! What are you accomplishing with that little stunt?! It’s like you’re trying to get me killed, you fool!” She sighed, calming herself. “Well, it’s fine. After all, if you don’t know the value of your own life, you’re not going to protect it very well, are you?” Byleth was beyond confused. “Course not.” She stood, clapping her hands together. “Well, then. I guess it’s up to me to guide you from now on. Right? You can call me Sothis, but I am also known as The Beginning.”

Almost seemingly bored of her own voice, she sank back into her throne. “Sothis. Yes, that is it. My name is Sothis. And I am also called… The Beginning. Who once called me that?” She looked to have forgotten Byleth’s presence.

“What are you talking about?” 

This snapped her back. “I was not able to recall my name… until just now. And just like that, it came to me. How… odd. That look upon your face. Did you think me a child?” Her face twists with anger at the slight Byleth hadn’t even known she’d committed. “A mere child who forgot her own name?!” She grunted. “This ‘child’ just saved your life! And what does that make you?”

Bowing her head in shame, she responded, “I am less than child.” 

This delighted the being. “Good! You understand. You threw yourself before an axe to save just one young girl.” She took pleasure in the alarm Byleth’s eyes widened in. She had almost forgotten. “Yet all is well, as I have stalled the flow of time for now. You would have died had I not intervened.” 

“Thank you.” Byleth bowed.

“There now. Is gratitude so much to ask? I did deem you worthy of saving, after all. Though it is only momentary, time has stopped. However did I manage that?” The being herself seems perplexed at her own actions. 

“What will happen when time resumes?” Byleth dreaded the answer. 

Matter of factly, the being stated, “When time begins again, the axe will tear into your flesh, and you will surely meet your end.” Byleth flinched. “How rude of you to drag me into this! Now what to do…” 

“Turn back the hands of time,” Byleth muttered, and something clicked in the green haired girl’s head. 

“Yes! I will turn back the hands of time. Yes, I do believe it can be done.” She seemed excited at the prospect, as if turning time from the jaws of death was something of fun. “I cannot turn back time too far, but all is well. You know what’s to come, which means you can protect yourself this time.” She smirked. “Now go, you who bears the flames within. Drift through the flow of time to find the answers that you seek…” 

Byleth was back at the scene, the axe at her back, threatening mortality. Then, her limbs turned back, almost imperceptibly, as the axe returned and she was stood right back where she was before the leader had rushed. She knew what to do this time. She held her sword in her hand and ran before the girl, pushing her back, and gaining leverage on the axe, flipping it back, as the bandit was knocked away again. With an expert swipe of her sword, she sheathed it again, catching her breath. No one would ever know that mere seconds before, she would have died. 

The two other members joined them, and all looked at Byleth with awe in their eyes. How had she known exactly what to do? Truly the mark of an expert, someone leagues above them. Where before they had challenged her with their auras of nobility, now they looked at her as maybe even more than an equal. It made her a bit flustered. Jeralt interrupted her thoughts, riding over with hurry to check on her, almost recognizing what had happened with his words, but then again, how could he have? He was interrupted when knights came riding to them, lead by an older man with recognition in his eyes at the sight of her father.

Jeralt groaned in displeasure, muttering, “why him,” under his breath. Byleth looked at him curiously, and Jeralt only closed his eyes in mock pain in response. 

“Captain Jeralt!” The stranger said, running up to them. Jeralt clenched his jaw, a gesture Byleth recognized as him holding his tongue from saying something. “It is you! Goodness, it’s been ages.” He smiled, waiting for some sort of response. The two of them looked back vacantly. “Don’t you recognize me? It’s Alois! Your old right hand man! Well, that’s how I always thought of myself, anyway.” He rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. “It must have been 20 years ago you went missing without a trace. I always knew you were still alive!” 

Geralt put his palm to his head. “You haven’t changed a bit, Alois,” he grumbled. “Just as loud as ever. And drop that ‘captain’ nonsense. I’m not your captain anymore.” So Jeralt  _ was  _ a captain. But of what? Mercenaries? This man’s armor was much too elegant to be a simple mercenary. “These days I’m just a wandering mercenary. One who has work to do,” he said pointedly. “So, uh, good-bye, old friend.” 

Almost as if by muscle memory, the man, Alois, responds, bowing his head, “Right… good-bye, captain.” He shifted to turn, before realizing what was happening. “Wait! This isn’t how it ends. I insist that you return to the monastery with me.” 

“Garreg Mach Monastery… I suppose this was inevitable.” He sounds sorry in his voice, to her. He speaks the name with familiarity, but to Byleth, it sounds foreign. 

The man turns to her, almost noticing she was there for the first time. “And how about you, kid? Are you the captain’s child?”

Byleth, not liking the man simply because of how Jeralt reacted to him, replied simply, “I’m a bandit.” Her stoic face did not break as he studied her a moment, before he laughed jovially. 

“Great sense of humor, this one. Clearly cut from the same cloth as the captain.” Byleth gave a nod. He spoke like it was obvious, though Jeralt has never been a jokester, more pointed to sarcasm, like her. They also looked nothing alike. She barely had a remnant of his features. “I’d love for you to see the monastery too. You will join me, won’t you?” 

Byleth nodded. What else was she to do, wait quietly for Jeralt to return? Besides, she wanted to see where Jeralt used to work. He kept his past hidden, and didn’t like to speak of her mother. It was a great opportunity for banter to hold against him the next time she accidentally overslept.

They were about to set off, when the three from earlier stopped her path. “Come work for me in Faerghas,” the blonde blurted. Without missing a beat, the girl also stated, “I implore you to consider lending your services to the empire.” The two began bickering amongst each other, and how their offer was better, when the boy in yellow cut in, laughing.

“Whoa, you two! Trying to recruit someone you just met. Tactless, really.” Byleth imperceptibly smiled. “I was personally wanting to develop a deep and long lasting friendship on our journey back to the monastery before begging for favors. But it seems there’s no room for niceties in this world. So, capable stranger, where does your allegiance lie?” 

They all looked at her expectantly. Byleth regarded them each. Claude seemed to be all joking, but there was a practiced and calculated sense to it. Dimitri seemed honorable, yet a darkness laid dormant behind his eyes. And Edelgard certainly was the picture of nobility, yet her eyes were calculating, judging her every move. It was a lot to choose all at once. Byleth hardly knew any of them, only vague facts from her travels as a mercenary. Dimitri from the kingdom, Edelgard from the empire, leaving Claude from the alliance. From what she knew of the Alliance, house Riegan left the Kingdoms to form the Alliance to stick it to the nobles. Byleth liked that small fact of history, so she responded with who she imagined she would want to follow, based on their foundings. She would ally with the Alliance.

Claude looked delighted, while the other two looked disappointed. “Well, is that right?” He said smugly, not sparing the others’ feelings. “That’s a win for the alliance, so I suppose I’m obligated to be happy.

Alois called them to stop talking and head for the monastery. It was a long trip, and would take well into dawn. And they were off. 

The three of them would joke with each other, often comparing the ‘houses’ they were from, though it made little sense to Byleth. From what she gathered, they were students at the officer academy. Aside from that, they were each heads of their respective houses, and not only, but each was heir apparent to their respective countries. 

When they arrived, Byleth had to pause for a moment to revel in the glory of the monastery. It was gorgeous, a brilliant castle of architecture. There’s a woman atop a balcony, high up in the building, looking down on them enter. She can’t see much, only the soft whipping of green hair in the wind. Jeralt regards her with disdain, only saying, “Rhea’s here.” 

As they climb the stairs to the audience chamber, Jeralt explains. Her face may not give away her curiosity, but he knows her well enough that she’s full of questions she refuses to ask, unless he opens the conversation first. 

“It’s been years since I last set eyes on this place. To be forced to see her now…” he trails off, sighing. 

“Her…?” Byleth asks. This back and forth they do, the opening halfway then prying the rest. It’s something she’s glad they have, but it can be quite tiresome. 

“You saw her in the courtyard earlier, didn’t you? The archbishop…” he looks at her blank face. “Lady Rhea.”

“Lady Rhea?” she asks, repeating the word. It doesn’t sound familiar. 

“As you know, the majority of folks in Fódlan are devout followers of the teachings of  [ Seiros ](https://fireemblem.fandom.com/wiki/Seiros) . The leader of that ridiculously large organization is the archbishop, Lady Rhea.” 

There was that name again. Seiros. The name the men would say when they fell protecting the woman in the dream. It must just be a coincidence, right? She’s described the dream before, and he never mentioned anything. Before she can ask, they’re in front of Lady Rhea herself. 

She’s beautiful, with white lilies on each side of her head, and a large headdress. She has long mint colored hair, with eyes to match. Her skin is porcelain white, without a blemish or mark in sight. She gives a pretty smile, but something about how her eyes are looking at Byleth makes her uncomfortable. She has an elaborately embroidered cloak, and her robes are white, floor length. She commands the room, and if someone were to try to take that command, it would not end well. She seems familiar. Perhaps it’s just because of the relation of the archbishop to Seiros. From what Jeralt said, Seiros created the church.

The man next to her is not quite as ethereal. He has green hair, navy blue robes, and an air of importance around him. He regards Byleth with disdain, already imagining her as lesser. The way he stands, it’s like he’s screaming, “you don’t deserve to be in her presence.” Byleth held his gaze.

He addresses Jeralt instead. “Thank you for your patience, Jeralt. My name is Seteth. I am an advisor to the archbishop.”

Byleth can practically feel the restraint Jeralt has to roll his eyes. “Right. Hello.”

“It has been a long time, Jeralt. I wonder… was it the will of the goddess that we have another chance meeting like this?” Her voice is soft, but there’s something underneath that she’s not saying.

“Forgive my silence all these years. Much has happened since last we spoke.” 

Rhea’s eyes are on Byleth, and she smiles. “So I see. The miracle of fatherhood has blessed you. That is your child, is it not?”

“Yes, born many years after I left this place. I wish I could introduce you to the mother of my child, but I’m afraid we lost her to illness.” Byleth looks at him. He doesn’t talk often of her. To hear her brought up so nonchalantly is jarring, to say the least. 

An imperceptible sour crosses Rhea’s features. “I see. My condolences. As for you…” she turns to Byleth again. “I heard of your valiant efforts from Alois. What is your name?”

“My name is Byleth.” She bows her head. 

Rhea smiles. “A fine name indeed. From the bottom of my heart, I thank you for saving those three students from the officer’s academy.” Jeralt grunts. “Jeralt. You already know what I wish to say, do you not?”

“You want me to rejoin the Knights of Seiros, don’t you?” He sighs. “I won’t say no, but…”

“Your apprehension stings. I had expected that Alois would have already asked this of you. I must step away for now, but I expect they will desire a word with you soon. Please listen carefully to what they have to say. Until tomorrow… Farewell.” 

At her last word, they’re unceremoniously ushered out to the hall. Jeralt chuckles, and Byleth turns to him, frowning, and folding her arms. “ I can’t believe it. Forced back into the Knights of Seiros. I’m sorry I dragged you into this. Looks like I’ll be stuck here for a while…and I’m afraid your services are requested as well.” 

Wait. She had just saved a couple of students. She has to work here? She hardly thinks she’d be qualified. She’s just a mercenary who knows how to swing a sword. But perhaps there was a war brewing, and she would be expendable on the front lines. “As a mercenary?” she asks, and Jeralt loudly snorts. 

“Nothing like that. They want you to teach, by the sound of it. You heard those brats earlier talking about the Officers Academy, right? Well, the academy just happens to be short a professor. And apparently that damned Alois went and recommended you to Lady Rhea.” He pinches the bridge of his nose as two others come up to them. 

It’s an older man, and a woman, older than her but by no means old. The woman wears a rather revealing robe, a cloak around her shoulders, hardly for modesty. The man wears a monocle, as well as suit robes. He looks much more like a professor than either of the women here. The woman speaks to Jeralt, a flash in her eyes that makes Byleth avert her eyes. 

“So, you must be the new professor… My, how stern and handsome you are.” Her eyes flutter to him, stepping close to him. Jeralt steps back, a slight blush on his cheek. 

“Uh, no, I’m not the one you’re looking for. You can handle things from here. Good luck.” Jeralt turns, but whispers in Byleth’s ear. “And… watch out for Lady Rhea. I don’t know what she’s thinking, making you a professor like this. She may be up to something. Stay on your guard.” Without another word, he leaves her there, to meet the newcomers.

“Oh.” The woman deflates slightly. “It’s you, then? So young…”

The man pipes up, and while he speaks, he looks to be examining her. “Competence and age are not necessarily correlated, as you well know. I am Hanneman, a Crest scholar and professor at the Officers Academy. I wonder if you bear a Crest of your own. When next you have a moment to spare, I insist that you pay me a visit so we can delve into the subject further.” Byleth nods at the end of it. She can hardly understand what he’s talking about. Crests? 

“And I’m Manuela,” the woman cuts in. “I’m a professor, a physician, a songstress, and available.” She winks at the last word. “It’s nice to meet you.”

“A songstress?” Byleth asks, thinking of the women who would sing in taverns late at night. 

Manuela smiles, proud of this title. “Of course. Before I came here, I belonged to a renowned opera company. Perhaps you've heard of me? The Mittelfrank Opera Company's beautiful, peerless–”

“Spare our colleague the needless chatter, Manuela.” Hearing ‘colleague’ sparks a sense of pride inside of Byleth. She smiles a little. 

They go on to describe each of the three houses students are sorted into at the academy, and how she is to teach one of them, likely assigned by Rhea. It was a lot to take in, all in just one day. Byleth’s head was already swimming with all of the new information.

She was released for the day, and she thankfully follows the young servant-- she thinks his name was Cyril-- to her lodgings for the time being. It’s large, with a big beautiful desk and a blank journal for her to write in, and curtains, and a full closet; my goodness, what is she supposed to do with a full closet? She only has a few clothes. When she strips down and puts on her sleeping clothes, and sits on the bed, she cannot believe that this is where a student would sleep. The bed is full, and large, and impossibly soft. She wonders why Jeralt ever left, with beds this soft. She drifts into sleep, and for the first time in months, it’s dreamless.

***********

She’s in the courtyard, the sun shining on her face. Students are bustling all around her, some training, some lounging in the grass, and others just watching it unfold. She’d spoken to the three house leaders, all with a familiarity of greeting again, excited to hear the mercenary who had supernaturally defeated the bandits was possibly going to teach their houses. 

When it got around to meeting her pupils, she got a mix of results. Most of them were near her own age, some even maybe older than her. How was she supposed to be a professor to people who would have in any other life been her peers? When speaking to them, often they were a bit curt, saying they needed to focus on studies, while others were treating her as a new student. The most interesting of her introductions involved her meeting with the heir to House Gautier, the so-called skirt chaser, as Dimitri had warned. 

She didn’t know exactly what to expect, but the suave, tall boy with fiery red hair was not it. He didn’t seem especially obnoxious, but looks could be deceiving. When she came up to him, before she could even open her mouth to introduce herself, he was talking. “Well, well! It must be my lucky day today, being approached by such a beauty. I'm Sylvain Jose Gautier. Feel free to say hi whenever you like.” He gave her a wink, and she frowned, pursing her lips as she walked away. She never even gave her name, but she already felt that she was  _ not  _ going to like him. Handsome or no, he was an ass, through and through. 

Byleth had never expected to be able to choose between the three, but when she imagined herself teaching, and after meeting all of the students, she felt the most drawn to the Golden Deer. They were open, and ready to learn, and most of them had greeted her in kind. 

Later that day, it was her job to teach her very first class. She had never exactly done anything like it before, but she tried to summon the energy of Jeralt, as he did teach her everything she knew. Claude, sensing her distress, explained how professors usually work around the academy. Nodding, she got to work.

The students were exactly how she had expected. They took in her knowledge like sponges with water, eager to learn, and asking for demonstrations. By the end of the week, she had hardly gotten through her lesson plans, as they were so much more curious than she had expected. She half wanted to spend the Saturday in her room to rest, but she was also curious to explore the monastery. 

She wandered around, talking to people here and there, until, at last, she came upon Sylvain. She dreaded seeing him again after that first day. She almost walked right past him, but he noticed. “Hey, professor!” He called, and she stopped, steeling herself, and turned to him. 

“Ah, I hope I didn’t offend you that first day you were here. It’s just, the monastery has so many ladies!” He put his hand behind his neck, and giving a wink her direction. 

“Ladies,” she repeated, staring him down.

“Well, there's Dorothea, Hilda, and Mercedes. Lady Rhea's quite the beauty too. And I must admit, I've even checked out Professor Manuela once or twice. You know, Professor, I think I'm going to like it at the Officer's Academy. There are beautiful girls as far as the eye can see…” He stopped then, when he noticed that her expression hadn’t changed. “Anyone ever told you you’ve got a killer poker face?”

She shook her head and sighed, walking away. There really was no getting through to him. He wasn’t even technically her student, after all. Sure, once a week they had optional seminars, as each professor had different strengths, but he’d never come to one. 

If anything, this just cemented the fact that she was going to enjoy defeating the other houses, with defeating Sylvain as an added bonus. 

**************

Her dulled blade was at the tip of his throat. He swallowed, watching her, his training lance useless in his hands. She smiled, and his heart did a flip. Why was he breathing so hard? Was he really this worn out from the fight? No, that wasn’t it. 

He was still thinking about it when he was sitting on the sidelines with the other “dead,” watching her easily command her house and defeating the others. She was quick, and didn’t make a single mistake. The way she twirled her sword was magnetic, practiced hands deftly spinning into victory. 

Dimitri, finally having fallen, came back to the sidelines to watch, sitting himself down next to his childhood friend. “Ah, the professor is truly very skilled,” he remarks, noticing how Sylvain watches her. “She’s had real life experience; I’ve seen it myself. Don’t beat yourself up too much, Gautier. She can best anyone on that field.” 

Sylvain nodded, not wanting to key in that his loss to her was at the back of his mind. Was that it? That she was practiced, and had been in real situations? That her blade, though dull, would likely have done more damage than the most well crafted lance in his own. He watched her signal orders, in a way that anyone not in her house wouldn’t be able to follow, as she dispatched with the Black Eagles deftly. By the time the mock battle was over, everyone else had fallen, meanwhile the Golden Deer hadn’t lost a single member. They jumped with delight, clapping the professor on the back, and reveling in their victory. 

He had made up his mind, right then and there. That was a commander on the battlefield, with skill. He needed to learn more of her.

**************

“Professor!” she heard a voice call to her from behind. She had a basket full of a few things, mostly including vulneraries and a few gifts for those in her class, or others who had shown her kindness. When she turned, she had to restrain herself from rolling her eyes once realizing who was calling.

The Gautier heir had run here, clearly having been looking for her for a while. His forehead slightly glistened with sweat, and he caught his breath before speaking. She bit her tongue.  _ Keep an open mind,  _ she kept trying to remind herself. First impressions aren’t always right, as she’d had enough experience to know. “Yes, Sylvain?” she asked, expectant.

Though he was taller than her, and roughly her same age, she did her best to assume the stance of authority. He seemed to understand, and gave a bow to her, for respect. 

“Professor, I have a question. I’ve been thinking, after the battle, of joining your house.” He paused, looking up to gauge her response. “So, can I, then? Professor,” quickly adding in. Better to be polite, she guessed. 

She looked at him for a long moment. He certainly showed promise. He had kept her on her toes a bit during the battle, but he lacked experience and overestimated himself over his opponent. He could truly be a force to be reckoned with on the battlefield. She’d known mercenaries with half as much talent as he did who had very successful careers. So, she did the unthinkable. She nodded.  _ It’s your duty as a teacher,  _ she forced herself to remember. If he was to learn, she was to teach. 

He laughed, and brought her up in a hug. Her eyes grew wide, unable to stop it from happening, her arms stiff at her sides. Her basket had fallen when he brought her up from her feet. With nothing left than to just accept it, she stood there as best she could. When he set her down, she noticed his toned arms, and the strength he had to pick her up so easily. She blinked at him, and he blushed back, before realizing exactly what he had done. 

“Erm, sorry, professor. I really thought you were going to say no to that. Thanks… for allowing me to study under you.” He picked up her basket, and put it in her hands. “You won’t regret it!” He winked, and ran off. 

Byleth blinked, shaking her head, watching him go. Perhaps she could teach him after all. 


	2. Bandits in the Canyon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's time for the first mission with the students. Though taking lives is never any easier.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, it flipped perspectives a couple times again, but I think it's fine. I'm gonna try to do one month per chapter and maybe skipping a few of the redundant ones, but we'll see what actually happens lmao. There's some angsty Sylvain being a horny idiot and angry Byleth, and obviously she's not gonna stand for him being an ass to all her female students. Man they really hate each other huh.

Chapter Two: Bandits in the Canyon

“Those affiliated with Garreg Mach Monastery have a moral obligation to help those in need, regardless of social standing. Students are no exception. Each month, before the newly birthed moon departs, each house of students must complete their assigned mission. You shall work to complete the task at hand alongside your students and report back to the archbishop before the deadline. Understood? I will soon provide you with the necessary details for your first mission. If I told you now, I expect you would only forget, and I despise repeating myself.”

Byleth blinked. She had expected something tame for her students to go for on their first mission. But going against the bandits that had nearly killed her, and their house leaders? That was insane. This was a job for mercenaries, who were trained to take lives. These students had only ever been in a mock battle. How were they supposed to take a life?

She watched as her students filed into her classroom at the bell. They seemed so hopeful, so ready to learn. Excited. She steeled herself with a breath, trying to think how best to tell them all.

“The Church has given us our first mission for this month.”

Eyes went wide, excited chatter, a few squirming with anticipation. She scanned all of their faces. They weren’t ready. They were her age, sure, but they hadn’t experienced what she had. They had no idea what a real battlefield was like. 

“We are to go to the Red Canyon, to dispose of bandits. Now, this is a serious mission, that I---” 

Interrupted, by the door opening, and a tired Sylvain rushing in. “Sorry, teach, I overslept. It won’t happen again, I promise.” 

“No doubt was with another floozy during the night,” she heard Lysithea remark with disgust, as Leonie snickered. 

“Try to come on time, Mr. Gautier,” Byleth sighed. “As I was saying, our mission this month. Now, I’m sure it’s exciting to imagine being on a real battlefield, but it’s different than our mock battles.” She paused, her tone turning stern. “These are real people, with real weapons, who see you as an enemy. That’s why, this month, I’m going to be doing intense training with you all, as well as having practice battles to simulate real battlefields.” 

“Will it be one on one practice, professor?” Sylvain asked, winking. 

“Oh, I think I’d prefer it if I could stay behind, professor,” Marianne spoke, softly. “I don’t think I’d be much help, anyway…”

“Finally, some real fighting!” Leonie exclaimed. “Maybe Captain Jeralt will join us, and I can show him how I’ve improved.”

More and more were piping up, excited. Byleth slammed her hand on the table for quiet. “This may be exciting, but these are real fighters. They won’t see you as students, and they won’t hold back. One wrong move could mean death. And even then, if all goes right, you’ll likely end up taking someone else’s life. Please take this seriously.”

They were silent. “We’ll follow your orders, Professor,” Claude nodded. 

Byleth nodded back. “Well, let’s begin our first lesson for this month. Tactics.”

*************

The next day, the students filed into the training hall, clutching their weapons excitedly. Their professor stood in the center of the room, wielding a wooden training sword at her waist with a clipboard in hand, in her full armor. When the last student, Bernadetta, who had recently transferred, entered, their professor held up her clipboard.

“I’m sure many of you have guessed, but this is going to be sparring practice.” A few of her less experienced students gave worried looks, wondering how they were supposed to keep up with a trained mercenary. “This technique is one I learned from my father. This is how he taught me to fight when I was a kid.” 

Leonie’s eyes lit up. “Is Captain Jeralt going to be joining as well?”

“Unfortunately, he has other things to do.” Byleth decided it was better to tell them that, than what he had really said, something along the lines of spoiled brats sucking out his soul with play fighting. “Now, another reason for you to participate and try your all is incentive. For those of you who aren’t doing very well, or have slacked off thinking I’ll be lenient just because I’m a new professor, I will be giving extra credit to whoever can knock me down by the end of the month before our mission.”

Eyes went wide, excited chatters going through the room. “This clipboard I have in my hands is the order which you will each have a turn fighting me, chosen at random. The fight ends when one of us has been struck somewhere with a weapon our armor isn’t covering, or are otherwise defeated.” Her eyes went dark, a slight grin on her face, that unnerved the students. “I implore you not to hold back, for I’m not planning to.”

The students quickly got their armor together, stretching and practicing with their respective weapons. Archers were given special arrows that wouldn’t hurt, but were tipped with red ink, so if they landed on the professor, it would be easily spotted. Lancers had wooden tips, axe-wielders given light staves with weights at the end, and the brawlers, well, they had their usual training gauntlets. All they had to do was outlast the professor in a sparring match. How difficult could it be, when her stamina was being spent with each newcomer?

“Now, first up. Your house leader, Claude.”

The boy grinned, entering the ring. He watched as the professor put down the clipboard, and waited. “Oh, come on, professor, don’t go easy on me!”

Byleth folded her arms. “I’m not making it easy, mister Riegan. I’m waiting for your first move.” 

In a flash, an arrow was loaded, and shot off, aiming right for the professor’s head. Claude didn’t even see her remove her sword from its sheath, but sure enough, the sound of wood on wood rang through the hall. Claude, knocking another arrow, shot again. Byleth ran to him, in a zigzag pattern, dodging the arrows, even when she was right in front of him. At last, he pulled a dagger from his belt, but she was already behind him, wooden blade at his neck. He chuckled, letting go of the dagger and putting his hands up. 

“Wow, teach, you really weren’t holding back there!” He chucked, as she released her hold. “You’re barely even breaking a sweat!”

She turned to those on the sidelines. “Now, if you’re facing an archer, and you specialize in close quarters combat, when you rush up to an archer, try to run in a zigzag pattern, like I did with Claude. It makes it harder to aim true.” 

She kept going, taking them “down” one by one, as others noted the way she dodged and attacked. During her fight with Lysithea, however, she was interrupted by the loud scoffing of Leonie, calling Sylvain a disgrace to men everywhere. Forcing back a chuckle, she held up her hand, signaling to pause. Lysithea obeyed, stopping her casting. 

“Oh, come on, Leonie, I thought you hated when I flirt!” Sylvain retorted, his hands up in mock defense. “I figured you’d take it as a compliment, I wasn’t trying to fight.”

“How the hell does saying I’m like one of the guys in any way seem like a compliment to you?” She spat, grabbing her training lance from the side. “You flirt with every other girl, then you have to think  _ really  _ hard to imagine me as one?” 

Sylvain backed up. “Hey, now. I’m so terribly sorry for being so rude, my lady. How can I ever make it up to you?” 

Leonie’s face blushed an angry scarlet. “Uh, hang on, back up. Don’t get the wrong idea.” 

“ Seriously, I feel just dreadful about how I acted! This is the first time I've ever done anything like this. I'm shocked that I'm capable of such low behavior. Even if you are a somewhat crude— I mean, spirited girl, that doesn't excuse my…”

Leonie swung, which he barely managed to dodge. “What the hell did you just call me, Gautier?”

“Enough!” The professor called. She cleared her throat, walking over to the scene unfolding. Leonie sheepishly looked up, embarrassed for her outburst. 

“I’m sorry, professor, didn’t mean to disrupt class--” A hand went up to silence her.

“Mr. Gautier.” Sylvain looked up, and in that moment, he knew he screwed up. Her face was truly terrifying, her eyes dull and soulless, her lips pressed into a thin line, her eyebrows knit down in anger. No wonder they called her the Ashen Demon. She practically radiated a miasma of darkness and terror. Sylvain couldn’t find himself able to speak. 

“Perhaps,” she said, her eyes not leaving his own, “you would like to fight me right now, one on one? You must be bored, right? Sitting on the sidelines flirting instead of paying attention?” Sylvain swallowed dryly, opening his mouth, but no sound came out. “I’ll take that as a yes, then. Up. Now. In the ring.” He went to grab his training lance, but she shook her head. “Since you’re so bored, and must have learned everything by now, you hardly need a weapon, right?” 

Was she really going to make him fight her without one? She was trained, and he was still learning. But watching her unclip her own weapons belt, he knew it was less and less likely she was just joking. He caught smirking as he entered the ring from his fellow classmates, mostly the female ones, while Claude palmed his face in disappointment. 

She shrugged off her cloak, tying her hair back, her eyes trailing him as he cracked his knuckles. The last time he fought the professor, she had easily bested him. He had to keep her on her toes. He could do this. He had been paying attention, for the most part, aside from that one moment. He could best her. Couldn’t he?   
  


The professor stared at him. Though her face didn’t betray her emotions, the tightness of her clenching was turning her knuckles white. She was… mad. He’d never seen anyone use so little emotion yet instill so much fear in someone’s heart. 

He exhaled, and brought up his hands in fighting stance. And she charged.

He managed to block the first blow, dancing around her and ducking. He was quick on his feet, that much was apparent. But the professor was faster. Every step he got in, she was two steps ahead. She landed a blow to his jaw, staggering him backwards, but he didn’t fall. The blow had clearly taken a bit of strength, as she waited a moment before coming again, just the slightest shake of her hand. It was a blink and you miss it moment.

Her next strike, he let hit him, but in the moment she shook her hand again, he struck. Her eyes widened, ever so slightly, and he thought, finally, he did it, he caught her by surprise, but her head disappeared in an instant, and he lost his balance as her foot swiped his, using his momentum against him, falling to the ground. She planted her foot on his chest, before he could get back up. And he was breathless again.

Her heel dug into his sternum, just slightly, her toe at his throat. She was sweating slightly, her hair a halo around her, strands escaping the pony tail she wore, her face blank and vacant. “After all of that posturing, and you couldn’t beat me. Pathetic.” 

She took her foot off, turning away. “That’s our time for the day. You’re all dismissed. We’ll continue on Friday.” Sylvain sat on his elbows, looking up, ashamed and embarrassed. How could he have thought he could beat her? Claude, taking the slightest pity, offered his hand to help him up. “You should really try to be more respectful. That’s an order from your head of house.” 

He was the last one to leave, gathering his things. When he was at the threshold of the exit, he heard a voice. “Wait.”

He turned around, greeted by the professor, taking her hair down and for the smallest moment Sylvain’s dark recesses of his mind imagined her coming towards him to kiss him. Instead, what he got was a slap across the face. 

“Detention for the rest of the week. I’m sending you to Seteth, asking that he give you  _ every  _ bad task none of the other servants enjoy doing whenever class is out of session, including your Sundays.” He sighed, and nodded. He had gotten himself into this pickle. He can get himself out of it. “And one more thing. Should I hear you disrespecting a female member of this house again, I will personally extend that offer to a month. Is that clear?” He nodded, and she closed her eyes. He took that as signal to leave.

What the hell was he thinking? Professor was jealous? God, he was an idiot. But the way she looked when she had achieved victory certainly made his heart thump. He hadn’t really looked at her like that before. Sure, he’d hit on her, but he hit on everybody. It was mostly just playful teasing to girls who he knew were only talking to him because of his Crest. But she was a force of nature. She had done what he never allowed another woman to do to him: humiliate him. And he swore in that moment, to the Goddess Sothis herself, that he was going to hate her for the rest of his life.

*************

Byleth had spent the Sunday afternoon sparring with Jeralt, in an attempt to keep alert. They would usually spar several times a week, in their mercenary days, but ever since becoming a professor, she’d had less and less time. She only ever got to speak to him once a week, now, with her work load, and even then, if she wasn't busy with mock battles and extracurricular training for her students, it wasn’t for very long, as she was exhausted.

“So, you finally cracked and punished one of the brats, huh?” Jeralt remarked, lunging forward. Byleth dodged.

“Do you remember that one mercenary, Henrick?” She asked, striking herself, only to be met with a block, which she had to twist around to avoid losing her grip on her weapon. 

“That lousy skirt-chaser?” Jeralt chuckled. “Hell of a fighter, but given the way he acted, I’m surprised it took so long for you to kick his ass. What about him?”

“One of my students is basically Henrick the second, only this time he’s a pompous noble.” They both groaned simultaneously. 

“The one who you punished, I’m assuming.” A jab, which was narrowly avoided. “You know, the officer’s academy frowns on professors hurting students like that if it’s not during training.”

“Hence why I sent him to Seteth.” She tiredly swung, which he blocked, knocking the sword from her hand. “Ugh.”

“Wow. I wouldn’t wish putting Seteth on my worst enemy.” He chuckled, setting aside his weapon. “He really got under your skin, huh?”

She rolled her eyes. “He’s the worst. Why did I let him into my class?”

“Because you saw something in him. You’re growing up.” He passed a canteen of water to her, which she accepted. “Honestly, I was wondering how long it was gonna take until you broke to one of the noble brats, in your own way. Gotta say, you didn’t let me down.”

“I just don’t get it. How can someone be so into women, yet hate women so much? Even Henrick was in love with the tavern wench.” She sighed. “Honestly, I’m thinking of having him transferred from my class. I can’t get through to him.”

“How old’s this kid again? I say give him another chance. Maybe his torture with His Holiness will have knocked some sense into him.” He shrugged. “Or not. But if there’s even a chance you think you could teach him, I say you’ve gotta see it through.”

“Who knew you were such a sap,” Byleth chuckled, earning a shove from the older mercenary.

“Can it, blank face,” he chuckled back. “It’s already dark. You should probably head back, and I should prepare for my next mission tomorrow. I’ll see you when I see you.”

Byleth nodded. “I have lesson plans to finish up. I want them to be as prepared as possible. A month is only so long.”

They departed, Jeralt going up the stairs while Byleth headed to the dorms, newly inspired.

**************

It was finally the day that they were to dispose of the bandits at the Red Canyon. Sothis’s voice piped up in the back of Byleth’s mind. “ _ So, we are taking children into battle, are we? I am not certain I would be able to sleep soundly after beholding something like that… I shall allow you to turn back the hands of time, but know this power is not infinite!” _

Byleth nodded, as Claude stepped up beside her, bow at the ready. “So this is the Red Canyon? Doesn't look red to me... Anyway, let's get things started, Teach. Looks like the thieves have been driven back. That's what we last heard, so no surprise there.” 

She caught sight of the bandit that had nearly killed her. Kostas. His face was contorted with surprise and anger. He wasn’t going to give up without a fight. And all the better, for Byleth was itching for a rematch.

“I hear there's a back road to the west. How about we split up and attack from there and from the front? We may be able to corner the enemy by approaching from both sides. In any case, we need to cross the bridge first. I'll leave the details to you, Teach.” 

Byleth examined the battlefield. There was a chance to flank, but she felt sick sending students on their own like that. She would have to reexamine when they crossed the bridge, and she saw if they had put their training to practice. “Cross the bridge first, and stay flanked behind me. Archers and magic users in the back until we cross.” Her students nodded in understanding. 

There were two axe wielders blocking their paths, as well as an archer. She would have to dispatch of the archer first, to limit possible damage. She charged forward, her sword striking true, blood spattering across her as he fell. She flicked her sword of the slick, turning towards the axe wielders. “Stay back for right now. I can handle them.” 

The two thieves turned their axes to her, charging her, as she deftly dodged, stabbing in the openings of their armor, pushing one back and stabbing downward to his neck with her sword. She sighed. She couldn’t shield them from taking lives, but she could postpone it. 

“Sylvain, Leonie, Claude, you head forward with me! Hilda, you take Raphael, Lysithea, and Lorenz to flank the western side. Magic users, stay back, but within range to cast. Marianne, stay out of range and heal where you can, and Ignatz and Bernadetta, provide support from behind.” They nodded, and were on their way.

Byleth went to take out the swordsmen, slashing at one, as Leonie, taking initiative, speared the other. “This is what I trained for!” She shouts, charging, as she strikes and the body falls limp. Claude shoots at the other archer, faster, his arrow hitting the throat, as the archer falls in a gurgling limp to the ground. “We were taken by surprise last time, but… I guess this is what we can expect when battling thieves.”

Byleth took a moment to check on her students. Hilda had dispatched one of the axemen, while Lysithea and Lorenz both used their magic to dispatch the other. Raphael caught the key he was tossed from Hilda, and opened the chest in the corner. Marianne healed up the scrapes Hilda had found herself with, while Bernadetta trailed behind Byleth’s group, and Ignatz trailing behind Hilda’s. Some of their faces were contorted with horror at their first kill, while others regarded the dead sadly, knowing there’s nothing else to have been done.

Both sides continued on. Sylvain struck with his lance at one of the swordmen, while Byleth caught the other, but a sniper she hadn’t seen peeked from behind the rock, and shot. She tried to move up her sword to catch the arrow, but she was too slow, and the arrow grazed her arm. She hissed with pain, cursing. “Professor!” Claude called, notching an arrow, but the sniper was hidden again. 

“I’m fine, just a scratch, keep going!” She yelled, but a sickening snap was heard, as a cutting gale spell was sent towards Leonie. “Wait, hold on!” She yelled, but Sylvain had blocked the attack, taking it with full force. 

Everything was still for a moment, Sylvain’s back shredding at the force. Blood came from his mouth, as Leonie watched in horror. “I’m sorry… Leonie,” he sighed, and slumped forward. 

Byleth’s head was spinning, and she squeezed her eyes shut. In that moment, she could feel Sothis with her, and the strands of time before her. She plucked at one, and pulled. Everything rewinded to the point before the sniper caught her. 

“Leonie, stay behind me, they’ve got a mage, and a sniper!” She called, her sword blocking the arrow as she rushed forward, to kill the other thief, and Claude shot at the mage, the arrow sickeningly lodging itself in his eye. Sylvain rushed forward, then, stabbing at an axe wielder with his lance, and Leonie following, as Bernadetta took out the ranger they were protecting. 

On the other side, Lysithea and Lorenz easily took out the rangers, Hilda swinging her axe at the mage on her side, with Ignatz taking the final kill with his arrow. All that was left was the sniper, and Kostas. 

“Stay out of the line of sight at that sniper, and stay back. I’ve got the leader.” Her orders were barked, and followed without question. 

“Y-you're... It can't be! The mercenary from before? So what, now you're pals with the knights? I'll kill you and your pesky brats!” He snarled, his axe in hand as he charged. 

Byleth parried back. He put his weight into his attacks, so if it struck, it would hurt doubly, but he was unbalanced. She sliced at the back of his ankles, causing him to lurch forward at the pain, falling. Byleth, her face a mask of utter dispassion, stuck her sword at his neck. “I should have… never… listened to that idiot--” he muttered, his words cut short by her sword plunging into his jugular. He gurgled on his words with hate, a cruel way to die, taking several moments, before finally going limp beneath her. 

She pulled her sword out, flicking it from his blood. “Head back to camp. I’ll take care of the dead. Good job, today.”

The students left her, and she wiped her blade. “I remember this being a peaceful place,” she spoke, looking at the scenery. 

“ _ Hmm... I wonder why it is you recall this place,”  _ Sothis’ voice rang out. Byleth jumped a little, with surprise. “ _ You must be weak of heart. Each time I speak, it scares you so.” _

She shook her head. “You just surprised me.” 

“ _ Although the battle is at an end, do not feel at ease.”  _ A pause. “ _ Well, anyhow… I am quite fascinated by this place. As far as I can tell, this is your first time here…”  _

“Still, it feels familiar.” 

_ “How very odd. I wonder if, somehow my memories have… hmm…I must admit I am unsure. Beyond the name and this strange feeling of familiarity, I can't seem to remember anything about this place. And yet...a great depth of emotion is tied to that sense of familiarity. Like joy and sorrow. Pain and love. And all things in between... If I was somehow here before, I wonder what took place…” _

“Teach? What are you still doing here? We should get back to the academy.” Claude snapped her from her daze. She nodded.

_ “It is time to depart. But know that time reveals all things. One day, I will remember that which I have lost... Oh, by the way. It seems you've earned my gratitude. The thieves who came here are no more.”  _

“Why are you…”

“ _ I am not sure myself, yet I am grateful all the same. In any case... You must become accustomed to my voice! If you fall down with shock each time I speak, that just won't do.”  _ Byleth shook her head _. “Oh... You think you're standing strong? Of course you are! It was a jest. Now, let’s go. Best not to keep children waiting.” _

******************

The trek back was long, and Byleth’s limbs were sore and tired. She was most looking forward to bathing, the grime and dried blood of battle sticking to her face and hair. It was an uncomfortable feeling, though one she was used to. 

When she sank into the water, the lavender soap clung to her skin, soaking away the blood nd soothing her limbs. She was grateful in this moment that the monastery had luxuries, despite how ludicrous they seemed when she arrived. She had never felt quite so relaxed after a battle. But now that she had a chance to, her mind kept thinking of the battlefield.

If she was just a normal mercenary, she wouldn’t have been able to save him. She hated him, sure, but he was just a child, comparatively. This was his first battlefield, and hell, it wasn’t going to be his last. Still, the guilt that it happened in the first place weighed heavy on her. Did he do it in some ill-thought way to apologize to Leonie? The image of him, blood sputtering out of his mouth, soaking Leonie’s face, as he fell, hopelessness in his eyes. If she wasn’t insane, crazy, apparently saddled with this powerful being hitching a ride in her head, he would have died then. 

“ _ Do not blame yourself so,”  _ she piped up then, likely sensing her guilt. “ _ It was his own choice, and luckily, you had me! I would have expected you not to care as much, what with how your blood boils so whenever he’s in your presence.”  _

“You’re even with me in the bath?” Byleth groaned, sinking lower. 

“ _ Do not try to distract from the subject! I say, I don’t imagine him getting better than he currently is. He can certainly fight, but that’s it!” _

“It’s a bit too late to transfer him again, at this point.” A sigh. “Besides, he has potential. Maybe with a close eye he’ll change.”

“ _ I think he wants more to be close to than just your eye.”  _ Giggling. More groaning. 

“I wouldn’t let him near me like that if it would save the world.” 

She toweled herself off, changing into her clothes to return to her room. Her hair hung damply at the sides of her head, and she yawned, almost missing the redhead waiting outside of her room. “Sylvain? It’s late, and you have class early tomorrow. You should be in your dorm.”

“It’s not the end of the month yet. There’s still a few hours left in the day.” 

Byleth sighed. “You really don’t let up, do you?” She shook her head. “I wasn’t counting today, as it was our mission.” 

“You should’ve said that, then, Professor. I’m ready for that extra credit.” There was a glint in his eye, that he was taking this seriously, and something else she couldn’t quite place. At last, she nodded. 

They walked to the training hall together, several other students watching them with curious eyes, some wondering aloud, “Did Sylvain really snag the professor? What a legend,” only to be silenced by her glare. Finally arriving, he took his training lance, and she a wooden sword. 

“This better not be a waste of my time, Gautier,” she spoke, her sword in a defensive position.

“Almost as much of a waste of time as deweeding the fields outside of the monastery?” He asked. Seteth truly had given him grueling tasks. 

Within a moment, his eyes ignited with fury, lunging at her. She narrowly dodged, swiping with her sword. He spun, catching her, and she rolled out of the way. Their weapons clashed, and he was stronger, so she let go of her weight so he fell forward. He caught himself, rolling, with the sword heading toward his face. Without thinking, and in a flash of anger, his crest flared, and he lunged, knocking her back against the wall. She groaned, and when she looked up, the tip of the lance was at her throat, with a grinning Sylvain at the other end. 

“You used your crest.”

The lance poked further into her neck. “You never said that was against the rules. Do you yield?”

She glared. “Yes. I’ll give you extra credit on your next exam.” 

Her there, completely at his mercy, did something to him. She looked so defenseless, so different than her usual self, commanding a room, in complete control. If he pushed a little more, he could pierce her neck. Her chest heaved with heavy breaths, her breasts rising up and down. He couldn’t help imagining his hand wrapping around her neck. He cleared his throat, and nodded, taking the lance back. What the hell was he thinking about?   
  


He left in a hurry, leaving her to put back the weapons. He had bested her, shown he was capable of beating her. But why was he conflicted? Why did he want to hurt her, while at the same time, he wanted to kiss her? 

God, he hated her. 


	3. A Foggy Path

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The months of the Garland and Blue Sea Moons have passed by quickly, but are certainly not lacking in eventfulness. A birthday, new students, and the discovery of a new power within.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What's that I smell? Is that... character development? It is! I have a headcannon that Sylvain is super nice to his friends and does nice things for them when he notices stuff happens, but secretly because you know, he's got a reputation to uphold. Also, a smol birthday moment! Sylvain has no favorite flower listed so I did magnolias and echinops, which are supposed to symbolize kindness and nobility, but echinops are really spiny and hurt when you pick them so they aren't very popular flowers.
> 
> Also, actual character development mixed with plot of the game. I like the idea that Byleth has all these emotions bubbling beneath but they are just unable to show it, coming off as cold to those who don't know them, but through their actions you can see they are a genuinely caring individual. They likely hide emotions because the enemy can take advantage of it, on top of the fact that Sothis's presence keeps Byleth from becoming too emotional. 
> 
> This chapter is ~800 words shorter than the other two have been despite it being two months crammed into one chapter, but I hope you enjoy it! I tried to make it less boring stuff we've already been through in the game, and more genuinely introspection! And oh man, do I wish people characterized Sylvain more! He has so much to work with under the surface, and not even the game really touched on it as much as they could have. It's like they wrote this great backstory with a treasure trove to work with, but instead decided to take the chest instead of all the gold inside. So, yes, I plan to have Sylvain actually react to things, so things may differ from cannon, as well as adding in important dialogue that other routes have but Golden Deer doesn't, so forgive me for the continuity errors, but from a writing perspective, honestly, I'm doing it a favor. 
> 
> Anywho, enjoy this chapter, and thank you again for 150+ hits on this fic! I write for fun, and there aren't enough genuine Sylvain fics around (I've only ever found one long fleshed out one.) Thank you for reading and enjoy!

Chapter 3: A Foggy Path

The sun had settled into a dull glow as it rose. Byleth would almost think it was beautiful, had it not been so early. Why was she awake again on an early Sunday morning? Oh, yes. Someone was pounding rather incessantly at her door. She groaned, wrapping her blankets around her, and holding her dagger beneath the folds, just in case.

She opened the door just as another round was about to be rapped on the wood, startling the perpetrator. A particularly tired looking red head was there, in his own night clothes, an annoyed look on his face. 

“Yes, Mr. Gautier? I must remind you it’s my day off.” 

“Yeah, like I want to be up right now either.” He sighed. “Even though I’ve joined your house, I’m still really close friends with my Blue Lions peers, and last night, Ashe was a wreck. He spent the night in the upstairs common room, with Dimitri, Felix, and I.”

Byleth nodded, not fully piecing everything together in her tired mind. “Is there anything I can do to help?”

Sylvain narrowed his eyes at her, before realizing she probably wasn’t well versed in Faerghan politics. “His name is Ashe Gaspard.”

Things clicked into place, and Byleth realized with horror. She knew the name seemed familiar, but hadn’t linked the information. It was no wonder he hadn’t come to her seminar this week. His father was being investigated for conspiracy and treason against the church, and some of his students were tasked with cutting him down, should the need arise. 

“I hadn’t realized…” she started, but he held up a hand.

“Listen, it really isn’t your fault for not knowing. But I think Ashe would really like to be there.” His hand was behind his neck in his typical fashion and his eyes were averted. “And, I guess, if you can… try what you can to spare him.”

Byleth regarded him for a moment. She hadn’t expected him to have been such a bleeding heart, caring about his friends. He was like a real person, rather than the persona he pushed out to everyone. He was genuinely kind, and genuinely caring. If only he reacted that way towards the women he courted. But maybe she could get through to him. 

“Alright. Let Ashe know to talk to me later today. Preferably when I’m not half asleep and wearing a blanket in lieu of real clothing.” Sylvain blushed, innocently averting his eyes further. 

“Right, yes, I’ll let him, uh, know. Thanks, Professor.”

He was sprinting down the walkway to the entrance to the second floor dormitories, and Byleth shook her head, smiling to himself. He was more than he let on. 

****************

“I just don’t know why he’d do this…” Ashe remarked, barely touching the tea Byleth had brewed. After a bit of asking, she had found his favorite. He was likely going through a lot of inner turmoil, but at least trying to fake politeness at a disgusting tea would not be added to his plate. 

“I’m sure it isn’t what it seems. From what you say of him, I’m sure if we talk to him, we’ll get to the bottom of this.” She tried to give a warm smile, but she wasn’t sure it was breaking through. 

“You know, he’s my adopted father. I was in a bad place when he met me, and he took me in without question.” Ashe smiled, remembering. “How did you know that he was my father, anyway? I don’t bear the Gaspard Crest, and I don’t look like the other nobles here.”

Byleth smiled. “You have some good friends. One of them knocked on my door early this morning to let me know about the situation, and have a chat.”

Ashe smiled, looking down at his tea. “I’ll be sure to keep that in mind. It’s nice to know.”

They spent the rest of their time enjoying tea, and just talking of random topics, to keep his mind off of the current events. It was at last the end, however, and Ashe looked like he had something to ask. 

“Professor,” he started, his hands twitching in his lap. “Do you think it would be okay for me to join on the mission? I want to be there to talk to him. I’m his only family left.”

She nodded. “If things get conflicted, Ashe, I don’t want you to have to see it. But I will allow you to assist for the mission, given the circumstances.”

He hugged her, then, and Byleth tentatively hugged back. “I know Sylvain has a reputation, but he really does care about his friends. Try not to judge him too harshly.”

Byleth gave a slight laugh. “Your heart is far too big, Ashe.”

**************

After her tea with Ashe, Byleth had gone to the market for a few things. She had a schedule of birthdays, and hadn’t expected another so soon, and with her most… interesting student. SHe had bartered for a particularly pricey vase from the region of Faerghus House Gautier ruled over, near Sreng, and had managed to obtain it with the agreement that should she find any more large bullions, to send them straight to the merchant. She had also gone to pick flowers, and while no one seemed to know if he had a particular favorite, she had decided on white magnolias and echinops, being especially careful with the latter so that she didn’t hurt herself on their spines. At last, she had asked some of her more experienced magic users after class on Monday to help her to replicate the spell they had cast on Raphael’s birthday flowers to make them last longer, as if paused in time. She quite enjoyed that idea, and had decided to do it for all flowers she bought for birthdays from now on, when she was better at casting white magic.

It was at last the fifth of the Garland moon, and after classes that day, she had retrieved the flowers on the desk for her room. She walked softly on her way to the second floor dormitories, but paused when she saw him already there, talking to a clearly distressed girl.

“You think I'd cheat? On you, baby? Never. Come on, you should know me better than that. You're the only one for me. I swear. Hey, if ya don't believe me, well... Oh, I get it. If I'm not your type, do you want me to introduce you to some other guys who have Crests? They're all nobles, just like me.”

“What?” She gasped, sniffing. “That isn’t why I’m… you… you’re worse than I thought!” 

Sylvain put on a face of mock sympathy. “: I just want you to be happy. You know, get what you're after. I hate seeing a girl cry, especially one as beautiful as you. So you know, maybe we…” She slapped him, then, running off in tears. 

He rubbed his cheek, and noticed the professor there, then, taking cover behind a wall. “So, Professor, do you enjoy spying on people? You look like you’ve got something to say. So say it.” He folded his arms. She emerged from her spot.

“You broke her heart,” Byleth noted, the flowers behind her back. She was unsure whether or not to give it to him anymore.

“ Hey, that was between me and her, not you. But you know how it is. Most relationships, they end in heartbreak. Anyway, I don't know why she's so upset about me dating other girls. She didn't care before she found out, why does she care now? I really do hate seeing a girl cry.”

“It doesn’t seem that way.” Byleth sighed.

He put up his hands in mock defense. “Hey, I swear it’s the truth! My heart’s in a million pieces right now. It’s just the worst.” He clutched his chest. “ If only I had someone to comfort me. Professor? It's OK if you want to console me... I happen to have some exquisite tea back in my quarters. You could come by, and...we could chat about love.”

Byleth shook her head, frowning.

“Calm down, it was only a joke! You’ve really got no sense of humor, you know that?” He brushed a hand through his hair. “So, what brings you here? I would assume you’re not just here to witness my love woes.”

“Actually,” she began, and brought out the vase with the flowers. “I heard it was your birthday.”

His eyes grew wide at the vase. It was a gorgeous blue, with golden inlays as if it had been glued together by the molten metal in the style of the Sreng region. It must have cost her. Within was a soft bouquet of white and purple flowers, which he recognized as ones that many noble houses were partial to. She must have really thought about the gift. He had figured as much, with the flowers Raph got last month, but he never expected her to extend the same kindness to himself. “I had forgotten…” he trailed off, taking the vase. “Thank you. They’re beautiful. Just like you.” A wink. 

Byleth rolled her eyes. “It was almost genuine. Why can’t we have nice things?” He eyebrows upturned at his flirtation.

“I was being genuine though!” He laughed. “Thank you. I don’t think even my parents have put this much thought into a gift for me.”

“Well…” she trailed off. “You’re one of my students, and I like to think you’d do the same.” 

He nodded, smiling. “Thank you. Again.”

She smiled back, before turning to leave. “Happy birthday, Sylvain.” He watched her walk off, a blush creeping on his cheeks. Who knew the Professor had a heart behind that blank gaze?

**************

She noticed in the days leading up to their mission that Sylvain was training extra hard with Ashe, specifically for close encounters. Ashe was typically a ranger, but in a lot of cases, melee fighters would try to pick them off. He also would act as a moving target for practice, with Byleth’s special arrows from that first month. By the time they were ready to depart, Ashe seemed just as ready to fight as any mercenary she had worked with. 

“It really is an honor to accompany Catherine, wielder of Thunderbrand. I hear you're intimidating enough to silence the howling winds!” Claude said, excited, on their way to Castle Gaspard through the thick fog. It was marshy, and Byleth could hear the squish of moss beneath her feet as they walked.

“Thunderbrand?” Byleth asked, curious.

“You mean you don't know?” Catherine asked, looking sideways at Byleth. “My weapon is called Thunderbrand. It's one of the Hero's Relics. A long, long time ago, the goddess bestowed divine weapons upon 10 heroes, which were passed down to their descendants. It's an honor to wield, but I'm afraid there won't be any chance for that today. Our mission is to help clean up the aftermath, not to fight.”

“Why would Lonato insight such a reckless rebellion?” Ashe wondered, worry on his face. 

“You should know more than any of us, Ashe,” Catherine remarked. Ashe’s face grew dark, almost angry. 

“Well, I don’t. Lonato never mentioned anything of the like to me.” 

“It all goes back to the tragedy of Duscur,” Claude muttered to Byleth in explanation. “It happened about four years ago. The king of the Holy Kingdom of Faerghus was murdered by the people of Duscur. That about covers it.”

Catherine chimed in, having heard the interaction. “But there's more to that story. They had accomplices within the Kingdom as well. Lord Lonato's son, Christophe, was one of them, and so he was handed over to the church for execution.”

Byleth gazed sidelong at Ashe, who had fallen into step beside Sylvain. “The church executes criminals?” She wondered aloud. 

“Speaking from the church's perspective, we simply passed judgement according to our doctrine in place of the Kingdom, which was in complete chaos.” Catherine looks forward sadly, remembering. “Whatever the truth behind that incident may be, Lord Lonato has harbored resentment to the church ever since. Well... To be more specific, his grudge isn't only against the church. It's also against the one who turned Christophe over to them…”

Before any further questions could be asked, a church soldier scout crashed through the fog to them, alarmed. “Report! The enemy is approaching! They can’t be avoided. Their numbers are far greater than we predicted. They used the fog to slip past the Knights’ perimeter.”

“It looks like our mission just changed, professor. Everyone, prepare for battle!” 

Catherine drew her sword, and Byleth watched in awe as it sparked to life in her hands, glowing brilliantly despite the dull of the fog. When it sliced, it almost seemed to cut the air before her itself. “With this fog, it's impossible to tell where the enemy might be...or how many of them there are. The enemy could be trying to surround us, but they shouldn't have enough soldiers to form a tight circle. Take down anyone who breaks through the fog, and let's push through!”

The militia began to break through the fog towards them, a soldier shouting out, “Lord Lonato doesn’t deserve such sadness and anger… Now it’s your turn to suffer!”

“Why, Lonato? Why did you drag so many others into this?” Ashe’s voice broke. With horror, Byleth realized he was going to fight his own father’s men. She shouldn’t have let him come. 

Byleth dispatched of some of the men coming her way, but of course she couldn’t get them all. One escaped through, raising his sword, but Ashe shot with his arrow, and they fell with a gurgle. Sylvain watched his back, protecting him.

Byleth stalked further, but it was impossible to know who hid in the mist of the fog. Catherine came face to face with a dark mage, cutting with her brilliant weapon, as though he were made of glass. He fell, and things looked clearer. Magic fog. This was entirely planned.

With the fog lifted, Byleth could see the face of Ashe’s adoptive father. He looked kind, tired, and sad, but his eyes were full of hate as his gaze fell upon Catherine. “The fog has cleared. There's nothing left to hide you or the filthy Central Church from the judgement of the goddess!”

“The nobles start the war, but it’s the commoners who spill their blood first,” Claude sadly states, as an arrow flies from his bow. 

More fighting, trying to reach Lonato. At last, Catherine reached him. She wouldn’t hesitate to take him down, but Byleth felt sick imagining the worst before Ashe had the chance to speak. “Catherine, hold back for just a moment!”

“We don’t have time, Professor! The longer we wait, the more people are hurt.” She lifted her weapon, but Byleth, an an act of either stupidity or bravery, rushed at her, interrupting her swing, if only momentarily. “Let Ashe talk to him, first!” she hissed, looking at the boy approaching his father with fear and upset.

Lonato followed their gazes, and seemed to soften when seeing his adoptive son. “Stand down, Ashe,” he pleaded. “I must destroy these evil-doers by any means necessary!” 

“Please, Lonato, surrender!” Ashe pleaded back. “Whatever your reason for doing this, we can still talk it out!”

“Rhea is an infidel who has deceived the people and desecrated the goddess! We have virtue and the goddess herself on our side!”

Sothis scoffed in the back of Byleth’s mind. “ _ Somehow I doubt that is the case. Humans ideals are their downfall. I wish it could be a different way.” _

“Even if all that’s true, dragging the townsfolk into this isn’t right!” A light drizzle had begun to fall on the battlefield. Drops of water trailed down Ashe’s face, but whether it was rain or tears, Byleth couldn’t tell. 

“Enough. If that is how you feel, prepare yourself! I'm putting an end to this!” Lonato, a crazed look in his eyes, withdrew his sword, sights on Ashe. Without thinking, Byleth ran forward, to protect her student. Their swords clashed with a sick ring, Byleth blocking the attack. “Ashe, get back, now,” Byleth said calmly. 

“You have been deceived by that witch... I will show you the truth!” Up close, Byleth could see the lines loss had carved into his face. He looked tired.

“You have lost all sense of justice!” Catherine yelled, Thunderbrand drawn. She approached, and facing two opponents at once, he let go of his attack on Byleth and turned to her. 

“Lonato!” Ashe screamed from behind her, struggling to get past Byleth to talk to his father, one more time, to try one more time. He clawed at her, drawing skin, and she looked sadly as Catherine faced off with the Lord. “I’m sorry, Ashe,” she stated plainly. 

Catherine struck the final blow, and Byleth placed her body in a way that Ashe wouldn’t have to see his father’s light leave his eyes. Blood sputtered from his mouth, as he glanced down shakily at the mortal wound in his abdomen, Thunderbrand sticking through the metal of his armor. Catherine looked sad as she did it, and he fell to his knees. 

“That vile woman... Christophe... Forgive me…” he choked, and Catherine withdrew her blade. 

“Lonato!” Ashe shrieked, kicking at Byleth. Despite his size, he was quite strong, and would likely leave a mark upon her skin. She held him tighter, and her eyes caught Sylvain’s on the battlefield. He looked on the scene in horror, as his friend sobbed and clawed into his Professor. He dropped his lance, approaching, and laying a hand on his friend’s shoulder. 

“He… he’s not really… he can’t be,” Ashe sputtered, crying into his friend’s chest, as Sylvain wrapped his arms around him. Other students approached, joining in to the hug, with Marianne saying a prayer silently for Lonato’s soul. “Why... Why did this happen? Lonato was always such a kind man... Everyone in the village was...was so nice to me. And I...I killed them. I killed them all! I had to, I know I had to... I know that! But still... What does that make me?”

Byleth stood back, not acknowledging Catherine’s approach. “I never thought I’d see Lonato meet this fate,” she said hollowly. “Well done, everyone. Let’s gather our troops and go.” 

The Knights of Seiros withdrew soon after, and Byleth approached the fallen form of Lonato. She kneeled down to close his eyes, laying him on his back in the rain that was now freely falling. She placed his hands folded over the wound, his blood slicking her hands in the process. There was a scroll on him, which she tucked away behind her discreetly. “Claude,” she spoke, and the house leader was there within seconds.

They helped to carry the body to a patch of grass rather than the marshy mud, under refuge of a tree, to shield from the rain. “I don’t know how Faerghus bury their men,” she began, “but when I was with the mercenaries, we didn’t often have time for funeral rites. We would remember good things about the fallen.”

Ashe nodded grimly, and swallowed. “I would like to stay until the Gaspard knights can come, and take him.”

Byleth nodded, and stood up. “We’ll stay as long as you need. Come, let’s give him space for a moment.”

Ducking under another tree, Byleth pulled out the scroll with shaking hands. Claude was there, having noticed. He offered to read it, so she could wipe her hands of the blood. 

“It’s… it’s a note that mentions a plan to assassinate Lady Rhea. It’s pretty disturbing content…” He held the letter to Byleth, so she could read it. Intense plans to enact it during the Rite of Rebirth, crazy conspiracies about why she needs to be put down, what they would do with her body… She folded up the parchment, and placed it within a pocket of her armor. 

“We’ll have to report this to the Archbishop.” She looked at Ashe, still waiting in the rain for men who may never arrive. “But it can wait. For now, we need to be there for Ashe.”

***************

Ashe had requested to join her class later that week, with thanks in regard to how she helped him, and apologies for any harm he may have caused to her. She was only left with scratched, nothing a bit of white magic and vulneraries couldn’t heal, but she was bruised for a while after. 

News of what had happened with Lonato spread like wildfire around the monastery. Whenever Byleth would hear of it, she tried her best to glare at the perpetrators, though it was of little use. Other students had asked to join her class as well, based on the news of how she had handled it. By the middle of the next month, she had gained seven more students, all more eager to learn than the last. 

On top of this, in the hours between classes, they were investigating the true plot against the church. While the assassination plot was serious, the members of the Golden Deer house felt that it was a distraction. Before they all knew it, they had arrived at the day of the Rite of Rebirth. 

After Claude had found a sealed coffin in the Holy Mausoleum, it was clear what the real motive was. Because of the assassination plot, it was less guarded than usual, leading to easy access for whoever the perpetrators were. Lonato had been a pawn to these larger players all along. 

When they got down there, they saw members of the Western Church assisting a mysterious mage at the coffin. He was working on a spell to open it. They had a limited time to stop them, or else it would all have been for nothing. To make matters harder, they had rigged the floors. And even harder, there was a mysterious knight on a horse, which the mage had deftly called, “Death Knight.” 

Byleth attempted to avoid the Knight as they advanced towards the back of the mausoleum, defeating enemies in their way. About halfway there, reinforcements arrived, attacking from the back. To protect her students, they had to double back to save those more suited to long range attacks. Byleth was forced to move forward alone, leaving Claude to defend the rest. The mission was more important. 

At last, she arrived at the back, having barrelled through to protect whatever it was they were trying to steal. “You’re too late!” the mage yelled. “The seal will be broken any minute now…”

He was working, but distracted. He wouldn’t be able to defend himself. Byleth threw her dagger at his side, interrupting his work, but he laughed in her face, barely deterring him. She was too late. The seal had been broken. But she could still stop them from taking whatever it was that was there.

She watched as he pulled out a sword, yellowed with age, cracked in places, with a large hole at the hilt. She attacked, and he tossed the sword in fear to use his magic, but she caught it. In an explosion of light, the sword burt to life at the touch of her fingers. The mage threw a fireball towards her, and without time to think, blocked with her sword. It split the fire in two, fizzling the spell. 

“What?” He asked in fear, but prepared another attack. There was nowhere for him to turn. Byleth swung, cutting through him before he could finish, and he fell to the ground, dead. 

The sword in her hands continued to glow. “That sword is… I see. What a pleasant surprise.” She heard the gravelly voice of the Death Knight. She brought it up in defense, but he was warped away.

“The jerk got away. Was that magic? We can't even chase after him.” Claude approached, noticing the glow in her grip. “Hey, Professor. The way that sword is shining... Do you think it could be…”

“Halt intruders!” Catherine interrupted, flanked by Knights. “Oh… Looks like you have it under control.” Byleth stepped down towards Catherine, the sword still in her hands. “Is that…?”

*************

The sword had been entrusted to her by Rhea, where she learned of its true name: The Sword of the Creator. It was missing a Crest stone, like the other runes, but still it responded to Byleth. It was revealed, then, that it was the same sword wielded by Nemesis, the King of Liberation, all those years ago when facing Seiros. 

Exiting, Sothis spoke to h _ er. “The Sword of the Creator. The King of Liberation. Each tale is more confusing than the last! And I really can't read that Rhea at all... That sword is clearly precious... So why is she so keen to gift the thing to you?”  _

“It is certainly strange…” Byleth wondered. 

_ “I feel as though we have become entangled in a mystery... And there is one more thing that has been plaguing me. The Sword of the Creator... It somehow feels distinct from other Relics we have seen. Such as the one that... Oh goodness, what was her name? Ca... Cat…” _

“Catherine?”

“ _ Yes! Her! The Sword of the Creator differs from her Thunderbrand in one key way. It bears a hole...where something should have been, but is no more. I despise not knowing what is going on! It...it frightens me. And yet... I place my trust in you. I must. Whatever comes to pass...please swear to cut a path that is your own.”  _

“I swear it.”


	4. Tower of Faces

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The next two months are certainly eventful, to say the least.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey kids, finally some actual potential romance bubblin' up for y'all! I am feeding you Sylvain being a horny teenager but also angsty as all heck. Eat up.
> 
> Also, sorry this chap is so long but I wanted to get the plot moving forward because honestly things don't get really spicy until Remire happens in Part One, for angst opportunities. At the beginning of this I was thinking about if I wanted Claude to also have a thing for teacher, and adding some Claude x Byleth moments, but I don't know! I'm kind of on the Sylvain train! Let me know if you'd be interested in a rivalry type situation or if it's just way too convoluted. Without further adieu, however, this monster of a 7.4k word chapter. I promise, they won't usually be this long, unless the mood strikes me.
> 
> ALSO! I've been using rich text and copy/pasting some of the script to here, but unfortunately that means it embeds the links that they have on the script page in the wiki. Sorry! Try to ignore it!

Chapter Three: Tower of Faces

Rhea, always looking beautiful, waited for her in the audience chamber. Byleth approached, bowing her head. “As I’m sure you’ve assumed, I have a new mission for you, Professor. I would like for you to take your students into Kingdom territory to eliminate some thieves.” 

“They stole a Hero's Relic from House  [ Gautier ](https://fireemblem.fandom.com/wiki/Gautier_\(location\)) of the  [ Holy Kingdom of Faerghus ](https://fireemblem.fandom.com/wiki/Holy_Kingdom_of_Faerghus) –the  [ Lance of Ruin. ](https://fireemblem.fandom.com/wiki/Lance_of_Ruin) Their leader's name is  [ Miklan ](https://fireemblem.fandom.com/wiki/Miklan) . He is apparently a disowned son of House Gautier.” 

House Gautier? Disowned son? So Sylvain’s brother. She had already had to kill one of her students’ family members, and with how Sylvain and her relationship was already going, this was going to obliterate it. “Why was he disowned?”

“I believe it had something to do with his lack of a  [ Crest ](https://fireemblem.fandom.com/wiki/Crest) . Such happenings are fairly common within the Kingdom.” Rhea looked sad. 

“The Crestless cannot harness the goddess's power, even if they possess a Relic. Nonetheless, they are still capable of simply wielding those weapons,” Seteth explained. “The  [ Heroes' Relics ](https://fireemblem.fandom.com/wiki/Heroes%27_Relics) are immensely powerful weapons. We must meet this threat with adequate force. Unfortunately, most of the  [ Knights of Seiros ](https://fireemblem.fandom.com/wiki/Knights_of_Seiros) are away from the  [ monastery ](https://fireemblem.fandom.com/wiki/Garreg_Mach_Monastery) purging the apostates of the  [ Western Church ](https://fireemblem.fandom.com/wiki/Western_Church) . So we are entrusting you with this mission. After all, you wield the Sword of the Creator, which is more than capable of opposing any Relic.”

“The  [ Sword of the Creator ](https://fireemblem.fandom.com/wiki/Sword_of_the_Creator) is a powerful weapon, well beyond the other Relics. You have nothing to fear. However, to ensure that no harm comes to the students, we will also send the monastery's most skilled individuals to aid you.” 

“I must remind you that you are expected to conduct yourself in a manner befitting the wielder of that holy sword. Also, you should know that  [ Professor Hanneman ](https://fireemblem.fandom.com/wiki/Hanneman) has been looking for you. That is all.” She bowed, and exited the chamber. 

Hanneman was a mess when she entered, his glasses askew and papers strewn about the floor. He looked up at her with a crazed excitement, running to greet her. A little afraid, she approached.

“ it seems the true nature of your Crest has been uncovered. I had, of course, seen your Crest before. However, at first, I failed to recognize its true nature. Eventually, it dawned on me that what is visible is perhaps merely a small part of a greater whole. In other words, your Crest is too significant to be detected when using normal instruments. After this discovery, I began researching Crests that might fit that description, which allowed for a temporary hypothesis.” He paused, searching for a piece of paper, with an intricate drawing on it. “However, I could not be certain. The Crest my conclusions led me to was far too unusual. A Crest thought to have disappeared in this world in the millennium since the fall of Nemesis, the King of Liberation. The Crest of Flames. That is what you possess.”

“The Crest of Flames…” she muttered, repeating back to him. 

“Your ability to wield the Sword of the Creator has unequivocally proved my hypothesis. A legendary power, dormant since time immemorial, and now resurrected... There can be no doubt that this ancient power resides within you.” 

It was a lot to think about, still on her mind when she ran into Claude in the hall, along with the hero of Daphnel, Judith. Her mind was hardly paying attention, and before she knew it, they had departed. 

She could think about it later, but first she needed to alert Sylvain of the new mission. He deserved to know first, especially after seeing how torn Ashe had become after the mission. Asking Felix, she found her way to the second floor dormitory stairway, where Sylvain was sitting on the steps, head in his hand.

“What’s happened?” 

He lifted his gaze to her. “Oh, Professor. Heh, I didn’t realize you were there. If we keep running into each other like this, people will start to talk.” Byleth frowned, folding her arms. “Hey, don’t get mad! I was joking… ah, forget it. What do you need?”

“I was here to talk about our upcoming mission, but… are you alright?” She sat down next to him on the steps.

Sylvain sighed, half chuckling. “I fell for this girl recently, but I just wanted to have some fun and leave it at that. So I told her we should break it off. I guess she was feeling a little more serious than I was. She started crying, and everything got a bit...complicated.”

“You’re complicated,” Byleth replied matter-of-factly.

“Come on, Professor. Playing around with girls is the most fun a guy can have. Besides, I don't care what you think of me. I don't intend to change how I live my life. I'm a good-for-nothing, if you haven't noticed, but I'm still a noble with a Crest. That's all anyone cares about.” His voice got dark. “It's best to avoid getting too serious with fools like that. It only leads to trouble. I'm gonna be forced into an arranged marriage with some random noble woman anyway. By the way, Professor. You didn't know you had a Crest, did you?”

“My father never told me about Crests.” 

“I see. I suppose a mercenary wouldn’t really need to be concerned about such things.”

“What was your experience?” She gazed sidelong at him. 

A bitter laugh. “Most children who are born to noble families are tested upon birth to see if they bear one. Even descendants of the 10 Elites, like myself, can't be legitimate heirs without a Crest. That means, as children, we're only accepted if we're born with one. The heads of most noble houses keep having kids until they get one with a Crest. Those children grow up to be heads of their houses, and the vicious cycle continues. Do you get it now? To all these commoner girls, I'm just a trophy. Or rather, a studhorse.”

It was a sad thing to think about. When first hearing about how the Gautier’s had discarded she had been taken aback, but hearing the way Sylvain talked about it… It made sense, and it wasn’t fair. They discarded one son, and the birthright of their other has locked his future options. 

“You mean they only want you for your bloodline.” 

“See? I knew you’d get it. These girls don’t love me. They love the potential rewards of loving me.” He looked down to the ground. 

It wasn’t fair to him. He was just like any other young handsome man, but circumstances had warped his world view to such a state that he had become who he is now. He didn’t believe in love, and didn’t believe he would ever be able to attain it. Every relationship he’s in, he would always wonder if it was really him they enjoyed the company of, or the potential of what that company could bring. 

“If I marry a girl and she gives birth to a child with a Crest, that kid might become the next head of House Gautier. But nowadays, with the bloodlines getting weaker, there are a lot of kids like my brother...born with no hope. For ages now, those of us with Crests have been envied and desired but never for who we are.” A sigh, and he looked up at her again. “I understand the value of my blood. Believe me, I hate how much I understand it. I know better than to dream of being free from this burden, I'm used to it by now. I used to think I didn't have the right to live freely.”

“You don’t think that way anymore?” 

“Heheh, that’s right.” He looked in her eyes, her blank face, and she stared right back. “You know, Professor? I’m a bit jealous. The whole time you were growing up, you never knew you had a Crest. You were free. Nobody pretended to like you.” He chuckled. “I kind of hate you for that.” His face turned stern, disdain flashing. “You were a spoiled brat who should pay for that Crest. Maybe I’ll collect the debt.”

For a few moments of startling silence, they stared at each other. Was this why he hated her so much? Because she never had to face the repercussions of having a Crest? Even before it was discovered, he envied her, for being strong, without people expecting it was because of a Crest, and the way she held herself without it. It wasn’t fair, it truly wasn’t, but… was that her fault? Did he truly wish to see her dead out of envy for her obliviousness?

He realized the words he said, that hung in the air, before he could take them back. She didn’t change her expression, and it pissed him off, but did he really feel that way? He hadn’t lied. He did want to make her pay. But… she was his professor, and he’d seen that she was a person beneath the blank stares. He forced himself to smile and laugh. “Ha! Gotcha! Wow, you shoulda seen the look on your face! Don’t mind me, professor. After all, ladies love a dark and brooding noble.”

Her eyebrows knit in confusion, but gone within an instant. “You mentioned your brother earlier. That was why I was here, in the first place.” She paused, thinking her next words carefully. “Your brother, he’s stolen the Gautier relic. He’s allied himself with members of the Western Church, and we’re tasked with retrieving it.”

***************

Sylvain sat at the back, looking down at his desk during her lecture. A couple of the Blue Lions students who had transferred looked him on with pity, but for the most part, he was avoided. Byleth felt guilty, even though it wasn’t her fault, but he had been hurting even before she told him. She couldn’t help but flash back to that morning those months ago, when he appeared at her door, begging to let Ashe on their mission. Ashe sobbing, clawing at her to let him past, to see his dead father. She couldn’t imagine having to go through that again, listen to that again, and didn’t want Sylvain to experience it either.

When it was time for lunch, she had him stay behind for a few minutes. He sheepishly looked at the floor. “I’m sorry,” he muttered. 

“What for?”

He looked up at her, and anger flashed in his eyes, but dissipated when he realized she was looking at him with genuine concern, as much as her blank face could show. “I can't believe my own brother is the leader of the bandits. House Gautier is my true home…and his. Please, Professor. He really is one of the worst people I've ever known, but we still… We share the same blood. We're still family.”

“I don’t know if you should come on the mission. I made that mistake with Ashe and Lonato already…” 

He jerked up. “I have to be there, Professor. It’s my brother, and I can handle it. I have to be there.”

Byleth stared at him, long and hard. Her eyes were so blue, almost endless, and man, were they beautiful, and so big. But there was a coldness within them, calculating. Of course he would be let on the mission. He was an asset, as a Crest bearer, and the relic was meant to be his. She wouldn’t be able to say no if only to spare his feelings. She wasn’t allowed to. And he hated that she couldn’t.

“Fine,” she nodded. “But if I can help it, I don’t want you to be the one to strike him down.”

“Aye, aye, professor,” he mumbled, giving a slight bow before exiting. Byleth watched him leave with concern.

He kicked rocks on his way to his dorm, skipping lunch, not wanting to deal with everyone for right now. He needed something to take his mind off of this, and now. Someone else to use and feel the pain he felt. And while the real person he wanted to do it to was right behind him, he couldn’t. So, he continued on.

He glanced at a girl from the Black Eagles house, no one memorable, and she averted her gaze, blushing. She was normal and plain looking, but she would do, for right now. He winked, and moved his head for her to follow, which she gladly did. 

“Wow, Sylvain, I’d never have thought you’d choose me,” she remarked, when he closed his dorm room door behind him. “But then again, I have been waiting for the day you try your flirting with me.”

“Yeah, I’m a flirt,” he said, approaching her. He put his hand on her cheek and leaned in. She hungrily accepted, her tongue dancing with his. He pushed her against his desk, jostling the flowers the professor had gotten him for his birthday months earlier, and she sighed, giggling at the force. He imagined the professor giving that same giggle.

She curled her fingers in his hair, tugging slightly, with a hand on his chest. He touched her chest, not anything to write home about, but not nonexistent. She hooked a leg around his waist, and he kissed harder, moving onto her neck. “You’re even better at kissing than I’d have thought,” she said, exhaling. 

“Can you, like, shut up?” He said, pausing his mouth. Her voice was nasally, and almost grinding to his ears. “I thought we were here for fun, not for boring conversation.”

“Jeez, you’d think you noble boys would be better at talking to girls.” She sighed again. “At least you’re pretty.”

He stood back. She was flushed, her shirt halfway unbuttoned, regarding him with distaste. Right. He was just a noble. A meal ticket. He couldn’t help but feel a bit hurt, despite knowing what he was getting into. After all, he knew this truth of life. No one would ever look at him without imagining the power that came with his blood. “You’d think you girls would be better at knowing your place.”

She scoffed. “You’re an ass,” she said, grabbing her jacket and exiting his room hastily. “No wonder you’re still a virgin.”

“No wonder you’re still a lonely slut!” He called after her bitterly, slamming his door and leaning against it. 

“Some of us are trying to study,” Dimitri called through the wall, annoyed. 

“Yeah, virgin, shut it.” Felix’s voice on his other side. 

He yanked open his door. “Last I checked I wasn’t insane and had more conversation than an untoasted piece of bread!” He yelled, storming down the hall. 

By the time he’d calmed himself down, it was time for class again. He sighed, making his way there. The lesson hardly captivated his attention.

*************

Miklan had transformed into a beast unlike any other. Black ooze came from the crest stone in the Lance, crawling against his skin. You could hear the bones crack as he screamed in anguish, his limbs contorting. He screamed until his screams began to sound more like pained roars, and his teeth became horrible sharp blades, dripping with hot saliva. He ate one of the unlucky thieves in his company, and the sounds of him being chewed alive did not fall on deaf ears. Byleth forced herself not to look from the sight. He could attack again at any minute. 

“What is that? It’s like watching a bad dream come to life!” Sylvain’s face was etched with horror. 

“How awful...So the Heroes' Relics are hiding such a terrible power within. I can't even tell friend from foe anymore. I feel for him, but...the best we can do now is finish this quickly.” Claude loaded his bow, and Sylvain readied his lance. Byleth felt the relic at her own waist, having been kept unused until this very moment. 

Any attack from the beast could easily kill these students. She had to draw it’s attention to her. So, she used a gambit. Her hired battalion rushed forward, barely damaging the beast through it’s tough armor, and she ran around to it’s back, so he wasn’t facing the others. He followed, roaring, his hot spit smacking into her. 

“Professor, what are you--!” Claude’s voice, but cut off by Sylvain charging behind, trying to find a chink in the beast’s armor. It was akin to a mosquito pecking at flesh. Annoying, but with a bear in front of you, not at the forefront of your mind. 

The others attacked where they could, but the only thing that could do damage to the demonic beast was her own Relic. So, when the beast geared up to attack, she held her sword before her, glowing in all its glory. 

The beast roared, and smashed at Byleth. She skidded back, almost losing grip on her sword, but she held tight as she rolled. With a yell, she attacked. The blades of the sword, swinging at the creature from all sides, tore through armor like molten metal. The beast gave an anguished cry. “Now! It’s armor is weakened!” 

They listened, striking. Byleth reared up for another attack, but already having been hurt by the Sword, it snatched her through the air and tossed her. “NO!” she heard a scream as she flew, and everything seemed to slow down. Sylvain had a lance in his hand, poised to strike, but his face was trailed helplessly on her body, while Claude was on his knees, watching. Lysithea had averted her eyes, not wanting to see the end, while Leonie had a hand over her mouth. She shut her eyes tight, feeling for the hands of time, to turn them back again. She found it, and spun herself back to the moment before she attacked. She caught her breath, and readied herself. Using the Divine Pulse like that always took a bit of her stamina. 

This time, when it came to attack her, her sword was ready, slicing through the clawed hand like butter. With a yank, she pulled the sword free, and yelled, “Claude, now!” 

But instead of an arrow piercing its heart, a lance emerged from its chest. Black ichor spewed over Byleth, coating her, as the creature shrunk back, leaving a dead Miklan at the center of a tarred mess. Byleth spat the bile from her mouth, stepping up, and sheathing her sword. Sylvain kneeled next to his brother, weaponless, and emotionless. 

“Miklan… my brother…” he muttered, touching his brother’s hand where he held the lance, getting ichor on himself. 

“Sylvain…” Byleth started, realizing. He had been the one to kill the beast. He had killed his brother. “I’m sorry.” 

She pulled the lance from Miklan’s limp grip. Sylvain didn’t move. It didn’t glow in her hand like the sword did. “We can take his body. Give him a proper burial, like we did for Ashe.”

This snapped him out of it. “He doesn’t deserve a proper burial. He was disowned scum, and almost killed us. He brought this on himself.” 

Without another word, he turned. The others were left, tired, and some, namely Byleth, covered in black ichor. 

**************

Byleth had refused to give the lance back to the Gautier family. After all, they had allowed it to be stolen in the first place. Sylvain had paid for the right to wield it in blood. 

She knocked on his door, the lance sheathed at her back. It was late, and he was probably asleep. But there was the chance he wasn’t. She didn’t get a response.

“Oh, Professor! Good night to you. If you’re looking for Sylvain, I last saw him brooding at the pond.” Felix smirked as he entered his own room. “You know how he gets.”

“Thank you, Felix,” she responded, nodding. “I’ll see you bright an early tomorrow for my swordsmanship seminar, yes?”

“Wouldn’t miss it for the world.” 

She was left alone in the hallway. He must have been hit harder than he wanted to admit. Despite the distaste they had for each other, she knew loss. She’d experienced her colleagues die in particularly difficult fights, friends she fought with before ending up on the opposite side, and having to take them down. It wasn’t the same, but she could empathize.

He was sitting at the dock, looking into the water with a vacant expression. Where he was usually joking and bright, now, even his hair seemed to be dimmed. She walked behind him, the wood creaking beneath her heels. He didn’t stir. 

“Sylvain, I don’t know how to say how sorry I am for your loss,” she began, sitting next to him. 

“You don’t need to pretend you care because I just killed my brother, Professor,” he said. “I know it’s your job to check on your students and all, but let’s not and pretend we did.”

Byleth sighed, and gazed sideways at him. In the moonlight, his features were shadowed. She could tell why he was a hit with girls. He had strong features, high cheekbones, yet maintained the roundness of youth. His lashes were full and almost enviously long, and when he spoke, she could see dimples, as the corners of his lips tugged. His hair was crimson, perfectly cut to tousle over his brows, meticulously styled yet done in a way that almost made you wonder if he just woke up that way. His nose was straight, strong. He really did look like a carved statue of a fabled hero prince. Perhaps if he wasn’t such a flirt, and he wasn’t so angry, Byleth might have had a crush on him.

He sensed the silence, and turned his head to her, only to find her big blue eyes studying his features. Her face, as always, was in its perpetual pokerface, but her lips were just slightly parted. The skin of her face was unscarred, miraculously, considering her line of work before the monastery. Her hair was a brilliant deep blue, and had been cut haphazardly in places when it got too long in order to protect her on the battlefield. It was a bit choppy, but somehow, it worked. On anyone else, it would look a mess. Her eyes were so blue they were almost violet, radiant. 

They stared at each other, an unspoken agreement not to break the silence, just studying the other’s features. They had never really looked at each other. He still hated her, of course he did, but he couldn’t deny she was beautiful. And hey, after all, wasn’t that all he ever really wanted in a girl? He unconsciously leaned in, and her eyes grew wide as his lips fell on hers.

They were as soft as he thought they’d be, and he brought his hand up to cup her cheek. She was stiff beneath him, unmoving, like a statue. It was annoying. He kissed her harder, parting her lips with his, and she reached up a hand, and oh Goddess, was she going to kiss back, he didn’t know what he was doing, but it felt right, and--

She pushed him away, lightly, with one hand. She was blushing pretty hard, pink reaching her ears. Her eyes were wide, her brows knit in confusion. His brain decided to return at that moment, registering exactly what he had just done, and he felt the heat creep up his cheeks. 

“Sylvain,” she breathed, leaning away, putting space between the heat he was building. Goddess he wanted that heat to stay, he hated her for pulling away, she couldn’t even be kissed by him without making him angry. This woman, oblivious of Crests while wielding the most powerful one, with this power over him, staring at him as just some other noble brat she taught, and he hated her, and wanted her to pay, but he wanted to kiss her so, so badly, and--

“I’m going to let you have a couple of hours to yourself. I’ll forget this happened, for your sake.” She was getting up, ashamed of him, mad at him, but he had the more reason to be mad, didn’t he? He was the one who just killed his own brother, and despite hating him, he loved him, and wished things had been different. He grabbed her wrist. 

“Don’t you want to help me, Professor?” He hated the words coming out of his mouth, so manipulative, but she wasn’t him, she would never understand how he feels, he deserves this, right?

She yanked her hand away. “I’m sorry. You’re just upset. I’ll forget it happened, and you’ll thank me later. Get some sleep. Please.” She was gone before he could protest, walking swiftly away to her own room. 

He was left with the ghost of her touch on his chest, and anger at the world, Byleth, and most of all, himself.

***************

Byleth leaned against her closed door, rubbing her forehead, flashes of the kiss playing in her head. Had that truly just occurred? Why didn’t she pull away before he did it? Goodness, she was an idiot. 

“ _ Oh, do not beat yourself up. It was quite entertaining, you know. I got to be there for your very first kiss! How exciting.”  _

Sothis was sitting on her desk, a wicked grin on her face. She was enjoying the teasing. 

“You were there for that?” Byleth asked, groaning, and putting her head in her knees. 

“ _ Do you not remember that I am here, always?”  _ Sothis giggled. “ _ My, if you had a heartbeat, it would have been hammering in your chest at that encounter!” _

“You really are the worst!” 

More chuckling. “ _ I only jest! You know, he isn’t bad for a first kiss, despite how awful he is to women.”  _ Byleth lifted her head, to gaze at the spirit in front of her. “ _ A bit manipulative, but those eyes! Downright dreamy, no?” _

“If you’re trying to make me angry, it’s not going to work.” Byleth stood up from her spot against the door, going instead to flop on her bed. “He just lost his brother. I’m sure it’s just emotions running high, and he was looking for anyone to feel something else.”

“ _ A stolen kiss, then. Maybe we should revisit the killing.”  _

“It’s late, and I’m tired.”

“ _ Ah, so it is not off of the metaphorical table! But… I too do grow… tired…”  _ A yawn. 

Byleth smiled, as the figure slowly dissipated. She stripped into her night clothes, sleeping, and dreaming simply of the push and pull of waves.

***************

It was the next Sunday, when Rhea had called her to tell her of their next mission, and go over the events of the last one more time. She had to look in the mirror for two hours beforehand to stop blushing, remembering the previous night. She hated feeling like this, and refused to let anyone see her like some giggling idiot. She was a commander. 

“Professor, you have done well to complete such a difficult task. You have shown exceptional skill in leading your students. I am forever grateful for the safe return of the Hero's Relic. Just as I expected, you have mastered the Sword of the Creator. Now then, I shall tell you about your mission for the coming month--”

Seteth interrupted, running into the room, frantic. “Rhe--Archbishop!” 

Rhea grasped his shoulders to calm him. “Seteth, what troubles you?”

“Flayn is missing!” He cried, tears of worry pooling in his eyes. “I cannot find her anywhere.” He turned his gaze onto Byleth. “Professor, have you seen Flayn recently?”

“N-no, I have not.” 

“I have searched everywhere! Where could she be?! She might be in danger… oh no… no, no, no! What am I to do?”

He began to sob, as Rhea held him, motherly. “Calm yourself, Seteth.” She turned her head to Byleth. “Professor, we will continue our discussion at another time.”

**************

The entire monastery was in chaos, everyone searching for Flayn, everyone suspicious of everyone. Her students followed several leads that morning, and Byleth felt as though she had run around the entirety of the monastery a thousand times. Some of her exhaustion may have had something to do with her avoiding a specific redhead whenever she caught sight of his head, taking the long way round. She had been indifferent to him all week, treating him as normal, and spending time in teachers only areas to avoid. It was good endurance training, at the very least.

She had finally,  _ finally,  _ exhausted every lead as of current, and all she wanted to do was sleep. She flopped on her bed, only wearing a cotton overshirt and her underclothes, when a knock came at her door. “I’m asleep!” She called, closing her eyes. Maybe they’d get the hint and go away. More knocking. She sighed. Would they tire themselves out? No. The knocking continued. She sighed, stalking toward the door. 

Of course it was him doing the knocking.

“Professor! You’re looking lovely as…” his voice trailed off, as he realized she was barely wearing anything.

Goddess, she was breathtaking. She had tired in her eyes, but the way the drooped as she looked up on her, it made every gear in his head turn. Her hair was up in a messy ponytail, strands like a halo around her face. And her body was enough to turn any head. Sure, her usual outfit didn’t leave a ton to the imagination, but it was in no way as bad as Manuela’s, and was mostly covered up by her jacket and tights. But here, in just a shirt, he could see her legs, and they were scarred with battles past, far before he ever even knew she existed, but seeing them drove him wilder than he thought possible. And  _ goddess,  _ her  _ breasts-- _

She cleared her throat. She averted her gaze, a slight blush creeping on her cheeks. “Give me just a moment, Sylvain.” The door shut in his face.

“ _ My, you really are giving me much entertainment this week!”  _ Sothis giggled, sitting atop Byleth’s desk. Byleth sent her a glare as she pulled on her shorts and a sweater. “Shut it, right now!” She mouthed, before opening the door again. Sylvain was leaning against a pillar, waiting. “Take a seat,” she said, motioning to the now empty desk.

She sat at the foot of her bed, as he sat across from her at her desk chair. “So. What is it you need, Sylvain?”

He tried not to think about how he was in her room, pulling out the official-looking letter with practiced nonchalance. “Right to the point. Right. I have a favor, and I’ve been trying to work up the courage to ask you.” 

Byleth narrowed her eyes. “Is this about a girl?”

A bitter chuckle. “No, for once it isn’t about a girl.” He sighed. “There are thieves in my father’s territory. I was wondering if you’d… go with me. To drive ‘em off.” A pause, as he figured out how to word this next part. “You remember the leader you fought at Conand Tower, yeah?”

“Miklan?” She tried to say it softly. He still hadn’t really spoken about it to her, but based on his previous behavior, he was hurt.

A nod. “Yeah, that’s right. Although he’s dead, now…” He sighed, rubbing his forehead. “What's left of his band of thieves is causing trouble in Gautier territory. My father has asked me to come home and put down those murderous jerks. But he's asked for me to come alone–no knights, no backup of any sort. That's crazy, right?”

“Why just you?”

“Because he thinks he'd lose face asking the church for help. I don't know. He could have asked another trusted house to send troops, but he only asked me. And the way my father is...he probably has some other motive that I'll never know. Maybe he just wants me to get some more experience in battle. Crazy way to suggest it though. Anyway, I'm not going alone, no matter what he asks. I'm going to ask some of the others in our class to help too. But none of us have your expertise. If you'd come with us, I'd be grateful.” A hopeful glance.

Byleth nodded. “Of course. We can depart after your examinations on Wednesday.” She sighed, resting her elbow on her knees. “But I think we should also discuss what happened after we got back to the monastery that night.”

He blushed. “Right. That.” An uncomfortable silence settled between the two of them. “Listen, that night I was in a bad way. I’m sorry for making a move, and if I made you uncomfortable. I try to pride myself on consent.” 

A chuckle escaped her. “I understand. That’s why I stopped it. I couldn’t have you thinking I was taking advantage of you, now, could I?” 

Wait. Did she just flirt? Did just just sort of admit that she… didn’t hate it? A further blush on his cheeks, as she looked oblivious. No, of course she didn’t flirt. Right? “O-of course, Professor. Though I must say, I wouldn’t have minded if you hadn’t… hey, wait! I was just joking!” He said that last part as he dodged a pillow thrown at his head. 

“It’s getting late. Unless you have any other pressing issues, I must implore you to go to sleep. No excuses, I expect you in my classroom right on time tomorrow morning.” He nodded sheepishly. “And Sylvain?” She called when he hit the doorway. She smiled. “Thank you for trusting me with this.”

Oh, that smile really did pierce his heart. And with that, he looked forward to going on the road with her on Wednesday.

**************

It wasn’t a difficult fight, but it would have proved impossible had Sylvain only been sent alone. It was almost like it was designed for him to fail. Her suspicion was proven right when she saw the man who she assumed to be his father ride up to them, accompanied by a personal guard. His eyebrow quirked up as he noticed the glow of the Lance of Ruin in his son’s hands. It had been Byleth’s first time seeing him wield it, too.

“Sylvain! I expected nothing less from my heir,” he called, dismounting his horse. He was slightly taller than Sylvain, with his red hair streaked with silver, and the lines of age around his face. His eyes were green rather than the cocoa of the Gautier sons, clearly something they inherited from their mother. When the Margrave turned his gaze to her, she held it back, unfaltering. She’d had to work with men like this growing up, and if she’d learned anything, it was that holding a gaze without shrinking showed your own authority. “And who is this?”

“Byleth Eisner, Margraven,” Sylvain answered for her, putting emphasis on  _ Eisner.  _ She didn’t like how his eyes changed when he realized her lineage. 

“Eisner? Like the former Knight Captain Jeralt Eisner?” He shook her hand with fervor. “You know, he disappeared around the same time you were born, Sylvain.” 

She gave a polite nod, before extracting her hand. “I’m also his professor, at the Officer’s Academy. Where we have to get back to.”

_ “Way to be subtle.”  _

“Oh, Sylvain, don’t tell me you took time out of your professor’s busy schedule just to help with your errands?” A look of disappointment. Sylvain shuffled under the strong gaze.

“Actually, I insisted I accompany him. It was a good way to polish skills for my other students, in the Golden Deer class.” His face turned stern. Sylvain flinched. Oh. He hadn’t mentioned that.

“Golden Deer? I thought you were in the Blue Lions, with the other Faerghus students.”

“I--”

“He wanted to learn under the child of the famed Jeralt Eisner,” Byleth cut in expertly, inwardly cringing at how she was flexing her last name. A few months ago, it wouldn’t have mattered to her in the slightest. Now she wielded it like a key. “He had asked Dimitri before leaving, who fully understood.”

“I see. Well, Jeralt was a master lancer. Are you also as adept?” His eyes motioned to the lance in Sylvain’s hands.

“While my personal expertise lies in swordsmanship,” a motion to the sword of the creator strapped at her side, “I do also have extensive knowledge in most all aspects of combat. As a mercenary, you learn to use whatever’s at hand in the field.”

“A mercenary? I would have assumed you’d had formal training.” A skeptical look on his face. “In any case, I must speak to my son. Might I invite you to the Gautier estate?” 

Byleth shook her head. “I’m sorry, Margrave, but we must be heading back to the monastery. It  _ is  _ a two day trip, after all, and my presence is needed, and Sylvain still has his studies to attend.”

A silent thank you from Sylvain. “Alright, I suppose I can’t keep him from his studies. I’ll just take a few moments to speak with him, and you all can be off. I appreciate that he has such a caring professor. I can only assume that his woman-crazy has been halted, seeing you care for him like this.”

She forced herself to hold down a snort and give a polite smile. “Of course, Margrave Gautier.”

When she and the rest of the members of the Golden Deer house were already heading back, Claude struck up next to her. “That was masterful, teach. Really. You sure you don’t have noble blood in you? Because you held your own against the Margrave.”

“I’ve worked with men like him before. You learn how to deal with them.” She shrugged.

“Would you jump into the foray for all your students, then teach?” The way Claude was looking at her, like he knew something, was annoying.    
  


“I would,” she stated plainly. 

“You know, things haven’t been quite the same between you two ever since we fought Miklan.” He elbowed her side. “Is there some  _ scandalous romance  _ budding in your heart?”

She scoffed. “I am your elder, Claude,” she pushed back. “I think.”

“I jest, I jest,” he teased. “I know if he’d ever tried anything, he’d be dead. We all learned our lesson that day in mock fight.”

She laughed along, but his words echoed in his head. Had things really changed?

**************

“Professor, thank you for your help. We drove off the thieves and got a reward from my father. Job well done, eh?” He sighed. “I spoke with my father after the battle. He confirmed that his intention was for me to claim the Lance of Ruin as my own. I see why he thinks that's necessary. Still, using Miklan for that purpose... If he was still alive, I wonder what he'd think of that.” 

“You’re still thinking about your brother, aren’t you?” She rested her head against her palm, sipping her tea. 

“I suppose I am... Miklan hated me from the moment he found out I had a Crest and he didn't. He was selfish and egotistical. I know it's not right to say bad things about the dead, but he earned it. Even now, I'm still cleaning up his messes.” He sipped his own cup, sighing. “I have to wonder though... What if it was the other way around? If he had the Crest and I didn't... Would I be the one my father thought was worth forgetting? Or would my fate have been wholly unlike his?”

“Thinking like that won’t get you anywhere.” She frowned. 

“You’re probably right, Professor. It’s not like me, is it?” He gave a bitter chuckle. “I don’t pray much… but I think I’m going to pray for those who lost their lives to the thieves tonight. And for all of us. And… you. I’m afraid there are more days like this coming our way.”

“Why do you say that?” 

“Faerghus has always been a cold place. Never very well-to-do. Until about 10 years ago, our region was a battlefield for the people of the Sreng Region to the north. And after the late king fell, the whole Kingdom became unstable. So it's no real surprise that more and more people are resorting to thievery just to survive. And there are those rumors of the current regent being too busy chasing the ladies to bother with governing. Don't worry, I get the irony. The whole damn Kingdom is in decline because of nonsense like that. I'm hoping once we get Dimitri on the throne everything will get better. Anyway, I'll leave it up to you to decide how you want to use our reward.” A downright heartmelting stare pierced her. “And, Professor, if I could, I'd still like to buy you a meal sometime.”

She shook her head, forcing down a blush. “There’s no need.”

He clutched his chest in mock pain. “Do you really hate the idea of having dinner with me?” She gave him a glare, and he laughed. “Just kidding. I know you’re busy.” He reached for her hand. She didn’t move it. “Again, though, thank you for everything, Professor. I couldn’t have done it alone.”

“Professor!” Claude’s voice. She snatched back her hand, standing up as he lead Ignatz into her room. “And… Sylvain.”

“We were just talking about the thieves over tea. What is it, Claude?” She motioned to Ignatz. He looked afraid. 

“Something’s very, very wrong. Please hurry to Jeritza’s room!” 

The four of them sprinted to the Knight’s quarters. Byleth was lucky she hadn’t put back her weapons yet. The Sword was strapped at her side, itching to be used. 

The scene was terrifying. Manuela was sprawled on the ground, a growing puddle of blood beneath her form. “Manuela?” Byleth asked, softly touching her neck to feel for a pulse. “Manuela, can you hear me?”

“She’s unconscious,” Claude noted. 

“It kind of looks like Manuela is… pointing at something,” Hilda looked, and she made Sylvain move aside the shelf, revealing a passageway.

“Manuela!” Hanneman entered the room, immediately kneeling at her side. “Manuela, what’s happened? We must take her to the infirmary.” Tears were sparkling in his eyes. “Help me carry her,” he spoke to Claude and Sylvain, who nodded, and helped. 

“Take Marianne with you,” she called. “We shouldn’t leave down without Claude, but if there’s any chance Flayn is down there…”

Hilda and Ignatz nodded. They headed down cautiously, weapons drawn. “It’s way too creepy down here. And it smells funny. And--AH!” Hilda tripped, and Byleth instinctively grabbed her arm to keep her upright. “A person! They’re unconscious!”

“Is that… Flayn?” Byleth asked.

“Yes! It’s Flayn! Oh, but there’s someone else too…” 

“Someone’s coming!” Ignatz whispered, his bow trailing towards the source of the noise. The figure approached, looking all too familiar. The Death Knight.

“That sword… you must be…” He stopped. “One of us will die, the other will live. I will enjoy this dance of damnation.”

He grabbed Flayn, and fled. “We have to go after him.”

It was a labyrinth of horrifying twists and turns, plates that when you stepped on them could trigger traps, tiles that could warp you to a completely different area. She had to be careful when issuing orders, as the other members had caught up to them. She’d used her Divine Pulse several times when a trap was triggered, and by the time they made it to the Death Knight, she was near exhaustion. She felt like she only had one more in her. She had to make it count.

She unleashed her sword, the warm glow in her hands. He wasn’t alone. She had to be strategic about it. “Now, you will die together. How joyous.” 

She frowned. He raised his scythe. The mages began to cast. She had one shot. She ran forward, her sword disconnecting like a whip in her hands, wrapping around the room, until with a swift pull, it brought the Death Knight from his horse, towards her. It clacked back together, and she rushed him, knocking him to the floor. She needed to see who was under the mask. She had her suspicions, but she had to be sure. “Kill her!” He yelled, and every enemy in the room was moving in on her, but in a flash of light, he and the enemies were gone. She saw a glimpse of a mysterious figure in red warping away. Their words carried in the air unto her ears.

“We will cross paths again. I am the Flame Emperor... It is I who will reforge the world.”


	5. Shot in the Dark

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Battle of Eagle and Lion occurs, and Sylvain realizes something around the same time Claude does.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We are finally getting to the juicy bits, fellas! I've been waiting to write the ball chapter since I STARTED this fic. Oh man, will it be good. I have yet to decide whether or not I want Byleth to dress up for it (I hate that they all wear their uniforms) or if she should just wear her armor. Both have really good places to run with in my opinion. Anyway, here we go! I decided on adding a little Claude Sylvain rivalry, but obviously, it's all in their heads, and Sylvain and Claude don't really get along. Claude thinks he's lowkey an idiot which to be fair, he can be sometimes. ENJOY! I loved writing this chapter.

Chapter 5: Shot in the Dark

The next month was a whirlwind of training, scheming, and late nights strategizing. The Battle of Eagle and Lion was at the end of the month, and though the members of the Golden Deer had grown, so had the students in the other houses. They needed to bring their all.

As the leader of the house, Claude of course had some schemes up his sleeve.

They had tea at least 3 times a week to strategize, spending a lot of time together. Byleth had always sensed he would make a great leader, but it wasn’t until just know she realized how smart he was. And also the feelings and troubles he would keep hidden beneath.

“Teach, do you believe in gods?” 

She almost spat out her tea. It was an out of the blue question. 

“I don’t necessarily mean the goddess of the Seiros religion,” he corrected. “Just… gods in general. Do you believe that incredible beings who control the fates of all really exist?” 

She hadn’t thought about it before. There were times on the battlefield where she could hear enemies mutter to something as they died, where mercenary spouses would sit at their bedside praying to something that could help keep their husbands and wives alive. It never quite worked. If there was something like that, who had this power, who controlled all of their fates, why wouldn’t it have listened to their pleas? She shook her head. “I do not.”

Claude gave a knowing smile. “Yeah, I didn’t think so. I never used to believe in that sort of thing either.” He rested his cheek on his hand. “I've always hated the idea of praying to a god. After all, you can only really rely on yourself. I still believe that. You can't win a war by leaving your fate in the hands of a god. Only tangible facts can really decide a war. Which side has the most troops, the best tactics, the better organization and planning. Of course, miracles can happen. And by that, I mean things that are completely outside of your control. Things that only seem to add up if you believe in the concept of fate... Things like... well, meeting you, for example.” He blushed slightly when he said that last part.

Byleth blushed back. “What do you mean?”

“You just seem sort of... impossible. I think everyone would agree with that. You can wield the Sword of the Creator, you're a tactical genius, and you have this strange ability to earn the trust of anyone you cross paths with. Before I met you, I never imagined that it was possible for someone like you to exist.” He laughed, almost at the words spilling from his mouth. “And yet, now that I know you, your presence in my life has quickly become invaluable. In fact, it's hard to imagine making my dreams come true without your help. Because of that, I can't believe for a second that our meeting was just a coincidence. That means it must have been fate. Maybe it was a miracle. Or maybe some god empathized with me and my dreams.”

_ Your presence in my life has quickly become invaluable.  _ Was he saying what she thinks he was? Byleth had never had to experience this type of stuff before, and now, here she was, having had her first kiss with one while another was pouring his heart to her. “Some god?”

“ Again, I don't mean the goddess of Fódlan. Though... I suppose it may be hard for you to grasp what I'm talking about. People all over the world have different ideas about who or what the gods are, right? Even in distant lands across the ocean or over the mountains… They have gods who see the world as a whole, who don't care about Fódlan's borders... Who don't meddle in our affairs. Who don't grant life or take it away. And maybe, sometimes, they'll make a miracle happen. A god like that... That's the sort of god I think I could believe in.” 

It did sound more realistic. It almost sort of sounded like what Sothis did for her, that night that started everything. “I think I understand.”

He laughed again. “Careful teach! You’ll anger the followers of Seiros if you say things like that!” She rolled her eyes. “I'm just speaking my mind, that's all. I think people should be free to believe in whatever gods they want. If a person believes in a god and that god becomes a support system to them, that's a good thing. That's what a god should be. Anyway... Maybe I've overstepped it.”

She shook her head, smiling. “It doesn’t matter, I didn’t mind.”

“I knew you’d understand.” They looked at each other for a while, just enjoying the silence of each others’ company. He realized this, though, and cleared his throat. “In any case, let’s keep this conversation between us, yeah?”

**************

Sylvain had absolutely no reason to be feeling the way he was right now. It’s not like he and the Professor had a thing going, right? She would never look at him that way. But when he saw how much time she was spending with Claude, how she snickered at jokes he’d make and how he wished he’d been the one to be the cause of that hidden laughter, he just kept stewing with jealousy. 

It was just for this month, right? The battle of the Eagle and Lion was coming up, and they were strategizing, but after that everything would go back to normal. He kept thinking about her the night she agreed to help him with the mission his father gave him, and how she looked genuinely vulnerable when she opened the door, flushed and embarrassed and like a real person instead of the Ashen Demon she portrayed herself as.

He was still thinking about it as he pushed his food around his plate, and Ingrid gave a loud sigh beside him. She had recently asked to join the Golden Deer house, and it was her first month under the instruction of Byleth, and she had already shown huge strides in improvement. That also meant she was privy to Sylvain’s antics again.

“That was quite a sigh,” he groaned, turning to face her. “What is it, Ingrid?”

“Tell me, Sylvain, what am I to you?” Her face was twisted with rage. Was she… interested in him? 

“You’re my friend. One of my oldest, in fact.” 

“An old friend, is it?” She chuckles. “An old friend…” she stands up suddenly, jabbing a finger at his chest. “Then  _ why  _ must I clean up the casualties left behind by your… by your… your skirt chasing!”

The dining hall turned to look upon them with curiosity. He deflected with an awkward laugh. “Nobody asked you to do that. Heck, I thought you enjoyed it! Besides, you’re real good at it.” He gave a mock bow of respect. “I’m excited to continue working with you.” 

“Do you mean you have no intention of acting even a  _ tiny bit  _ more respectable?” 

He scanned the room. More were looking at them, including the professor, who had just walked in for a quick meal with Claude. “Please don’t yell like that. Everyone’s staring.”

A twisted look came upon her face, realizing her chance. Was she going to embarrass him into changing? “When you were eight, you came on to my sweet, sweet granny. My granny!” A few chuckles.

“Come on. I was eight and she was gorgeo—” He sobered himself. “That was a long time ago.” He lowered his voice. “Come on, people can hear you.”

“When you were ten, we went to that harvest festival and you started making eyes at a scarecrow!”

“A scarecrow?” he heard someone mutter.

“Wait a second, that was just an accident! A tragic,  _ tragic  _ accident!” 

“When you were fifteen, you sought—relentlessly, might I add—to involve yourself with Lord Gwendal's daughter. Who do you suppose made peace with the furious lord, despite having nothing to do with it? Hm? Me. Always me, always for you. Every time.” She looked hurt, and worried, too much like a disappointed mother, and airing all his dirty laundry to the entire academy. 

“Ingrid, please,” he pleaded. 

“My point is, this has to end. Not later, but now.” 

He took another glance around the room. Byleth’s face was upturned in disappointment, while Claude was whispering something to a giggling Hilda, her eyes trailed on him. “Fine, I promise I’ll try to change. Happy now?”

“Hardly,” she said, storming away. He sighed as he hastily exited after her. He didn’t much feel like sitting there with all those judging eyes, anymore. With the Professor judging him. 

What the hell was happening to him?

***************

It was old news by the next week. There was the occasional joke, but it was mostly silent. At least the girls in the town hadn’t heard about it. They still looked at him as a dreamy meal ticket from their modest life. But when he kissed them, he couldn’t help but stop thinking about Byleth, and how she looked so disappointed in him. And then his mind would wander to her laughing with Claude, to her  _ being  _ with Claude…

He had taken up sparring with Felix more often than dating with girls. He had gone down to one a week, and it just wasn’t as fun to him anymore, and he needed to find new ways to spend his time. Ingrid had chewed him out again, and it made him start to really look at his actions. But that didn’t mean he had completely stopped.

Felix got a jab in, which knocked him on his ass.

“Thinking about your girl of the week? You’re sloppy.” 

“Hey, come on. Don’t talk like that! How long have we known each other?” He pulled himself up.

“Long enough if you ask me. We only know each other because of our parents' friendship. I didn't have a say in it.” Another jab, but Sylvain was ready, and blocked it. 

“Oh, is that how it went?” He chuckled. “I remember it more like you always following me around. Whenever there was something wrong—like you lost to your brother or you fought with Dimitri—you'd come crying to me. You were so meek and pure back then, cute even... like a baby brother.”

Felix’s face went sour. “That’s enough.”

“What?”

He did a deft move with his sword, knocking the wind out of Sylvain. “I said, ‘That’s enough.’” 

“Hey! Sorry, I didn’t mean to get on your nerves.”

“Look. You've been getting on my nerves for years. I've tried to be patient with you, but I'm tired of holding my tongue. You're reckless in your personal affairs and in battle. And you're always prattling on about women!”

“Hey, when a man sees a pretty girl, he can’t just let her pass without commenting! That’s just rude.” He laughed. 

“You’re insatiable,” Felix spat, rolling his eyes with distaste. “Do you ever stop? Certainly not to practice your sword technique, if the amount of times I’ve knocked you on your behind today is a teller. You always skip training. And you never consider how your actions hurt others...or how you hold them back.”

“That's never my intention. Come on, you know me better than that. I'm not really— Look, if that's the impression I've given you, then I'm sorry.”

“Hmph. One of these days, you’re gonna find a girl you really like, and she’s not gonna give you a chance.”

**************

The battle went as expected. There were a few slipups of her students, but because of Claude’s scheming and her training, they were able to fight back even when they had the lower hand. They inevitably won, and because they had flanked from both sides, they had also “defeated” the most enemy forces. Claude and Byleth high fived at the end, breathless and panting, but satisfied.

“Well done, Claude. I see your schemes are not to be underestimated,” Edelgard remarked, approaching them.

“Yes, I wholeheartedly agree,” Dimitri added, joining. “As ever, I have proven to be no match for you. It’s no wonder so many have transferred into your class.”

Claude’s face turned serious as he bowed. “It is the utmost honor to receive praise from your royal--” he broke, laughing. Byleth rolled her eyes, a slight smile at her lips. “I'm kidding, of course. Really, though, I was lucky to have Teach on my side. In all honesty, you two made me work for it. If I had to face you again, there's no telling which way it would go. What do you think, Teach? How did the other houses fare?”

Joining into the joking, she replied sardonically. “Oh, they were nothing.”

Claude laughed again. “Ah, too true Teach! That about sums it up.” He grinned in his victory. “Ooh, that must be too hard for you losers to hear, isn’t it? In any case, I hope the day never comes when we have to put this experience to use.” 

“Agreed,” Dimitri nodded. “I would hate to know a future in which I’m forced to cross swords with you.” 

“I wouldn’t mind. I’d accept a challenge from you any time,” Edelgard said with complete sincerity. They looked at her in shock. “What? I’m kidding, of course!”

“Well, now that the three-way battle has ended in an Alliance victory, I daresay it's time for some post-battle reconciliation. The victor has but one request. Hear me out... When we get back to Garreg Mach, let's have a grand feast to bring down the walls between our respective houses. And by a ‘grand’ feast, I mean a fairly regular feast in the dining hall.”

Dimitri nodded, holding back his smile with mock seriousness. “Hmph. I accept your proposition. Please notify me once your preparations are complete.”

“ It seems I have no choice but to drown my sorrow at losing in overindulgence. I'll help you with the preparations,” Edelgard added, nodding.

“It's not a feast if you don't eat too much! Leave it to the Imperial princess to say such wonderful things.” Claude gave a motion of his nose in the air, mock dignity and all. 

“That’s not exactly what I said, but… Ugh, forget it! Laugh all you want!”

Byleth couldn’t help but join in, her soft laugh alerting the three house leaders, as they too laughed again. They departed, and Byleth walked back to the rest of their class together.

“Hey, Teach. Looks like you're having a good time too. Seeing you smile like that means we've got no choice but to have a great time tonight. Let's get going!” He pulled her along as the rest of them praised each other for their hard work all the way back to the monastery.

***************

Byleth had to help drag Claude back to his dorm. He had passed out after eating too much, and boy, was he heavy, but it was nothing compared to some of the mercenaries in Jeralt’s company she had to drag away after a night of drinking. She was halfway there, finally seeing his dorm in sight, when Sylvain stepped out of his room, in a cotton shirt and loose pants, a toothbrush in his mouth. He paused when he noticed her, his eyes going wide. 

“Are you… with Claude?” he asked, taking the toothbrush from his mouth. 

Byleth couldn’t help the blush. “OH, no! He ate too much, I was trying to help him back to his room… Could you… could you get the door for me?”

“Um, yes, right away, Professor.” He opened the door and Byleth dragged him in, setting him down on his bed. Claude stirred, looking up at her and smiling. He pulled a strand of her hair. “If possible, I wish for you to fight by my side,” he slurred. “If I could use the Sword of the Creator, we wouldn't even be having this conversation. I bet if I could use it, you would trust me to... Right? That selflessness may be what I like best about you.” More blushing, on her part. 

“Go to sleep, Claude. We’ll talk more in the morning,” she laughed, pulling his hand from her. She shut the door behind her, where Sylvain watched her, his eyebrows clenched in… anger? 

“So, you really do just care about all your students, don’t you?” The words were kind, but the tone behind them wasn’t. 

“I do. I mean, it is part of my job.” She had begun walking away, down the hall, and he followed. “Is there something you want to say?”

“No, no. Just noticing.” Silence. They reached the stairwell. “Actually, I just was thinking, you should be careful who you show your kindness to.”

She scoffed. “Are you trying to say my students, or Claude, is untrustworthy?” 

“No, no, I just mean, be careful with it. It seems like you’re leading guys on.”

“ _ Excuse  _ me?” she asked, stopping. She frowned, her face going angry. “Are you honestly lecturing me on leading people on when I’m just showing  _ basic  _ kindness, while you literally make girls cry, and take whatever it is you want?”

He chewed his cheek. “Listen, I’m just trying to let you know before you get in hot water. I have experience with this stuff.”

“And you assume that I haven’t?” 

“Well, no offense, Teach, but nobles are a little different than mercenaries--”

She slapped him. He rubbed his cheek. “Watch yourself, Gautier. I’m your teacher.”

“How am I supposed to take you seriously when I’m probably older than you are?” He mumbled under his breath. 

“What was that?” She asked. 

“I said, how am I supposed to--- woah!” Byleth had been standing there, but her eyes went into the back of her head, and she was falling. He had caught her, just then. Jeralt, who had been walking by for a night fishing adventure, noticed them in the path next to the greenhouse. 

“Sylvain--hey! Step away from her!” He was there in a second, Sylvain pushed away, as Jeralt held his daughter. He hadn’t ever really seen them together act as a family, but the fear in Jeralt’s eyes was all he needed to see to know how much he cared. “Hey, what’s wrong?” he asked, stroking her cheek.

Her eyes fluttered open. “I’m okay,” she breathed. “I just got a little dizzy.” She sat up, rubbing her head. 

“Let’s get you to your room.” He brought her away, giving Sylvain a suspicious look off towards the first floor dorms. 

“Gah, idiot, idiot!” He muttered to himself, hitting his head. He looked like a lost puppy as her figure got smaller, and smaller.

***************

Byleth felt dizzy for the next few days, and surprisingly, so did Sothis. It was a struggle to stay awake during her drills for her students, and she felt fuzzy. _ “It feels familiar... As though pulled from a corner of my memory, from a time long ago... I simply cannot fathom it.” _

On top of that, she had a new mission to prepare for, Remire village, where they had been staying that fateful night when she was thrust into this new world. They had done a lot for her and Jeralt, and though they never had one place to call home, Remire was the closest to it. 

And even more, she had Sylvain to deal with. He had said some hurtful things, and she hated that they affected her as much as they did. And she felt guilty for remaining angry at him when he looked at her with such concern, after she had fainted. She shook her head. She wasn’t going to think about this any more. She had actual life or death situations on her plate. 

Claude had asked her to the library, to talk to Tomas, but he was nowhere to be found when she arrived. “Tomas doesn’t seem to be here. Ah, that’s fine. I’ve been researching a lot about the Hero’s Relics since we last spoke to him. I found out something interesting.”

She moved beside him, to see what he had spread out on the table. “Something interesting, huh?” she asked.

“It's about the connection between Crests and the Heroes' Relics. The Crest Stone of each Relic is carved with a specific Crest-the one that has the ability to wield it properly. The Crests are the keys. You need the right one to safely use a Hero's Relic. The only thing I can't figure out is...why doesn't the Sword of the Creator have a Crest Stone bearing a Crest?”

“It had one in the past,” she answered quickly. How did she know that? Maybe she had spoken with Sothis about it, and they’d theorized.

“Precisely! I mean, that’s my current guess.” He smiled, flipping the page. “There's more. I believe the Crest Stones might be the source of the Relics' inhuman power. When Miklan transformed into a Black Beast, he was taken over by something that originated from the Crest Stone. And the Crest Stone was on his body. It all seems to add up. Now, look at this picture I found in the library.”

It was a picture of a huge dragon, with mint colored skin and curves horns. It snarled, with rows of glistening sharp teeth, and wings that took up the whole page. There was a pattern on its forehead in the shape of a circle. 

“That creature is called the Immaculate One, who was supposedly sent by the goddess to save the followers of Seiros. See the pattern on its brow, and the faint circular boundary? Isn't it possible that's a Crest Stone? If all this is true, then Crest Stones are what power the ability to assume massive forms like that of the Immaculate One. And maybe the Heroes' Relics can harness that transformative power…”

Seteth came into the library, surprised by them. Claude subtly closed the book held it in his arm nonchalantly. “Oh. It’s just you. Have you seen Tomas recently?”   
  


“No such luck. I was hoping to speak to him myself, but he seems to be out on the town.” 

“Hmm, I see… wait, where did you find that book?” He took it from Claude’s grasp.

“It was in the library,” Claude explained, his eyes narrowing in suspicion. “Why? Is it something my youthful eyes shouldn’t be seeing?”

Seteth laughed quickly. “No, of course not. However, that is not part of this library's collection. It must belong to Tomas. It would be problematic if it got mixed in with the other books. I will take possession of it for now.” 

“Take it away where no one can see it, you mean,” Claude muttered.

“What was that?”

Byleth inwardly cringed. “That’s what Tomas said. That records that the monastery doesn’t approve of tend to disappear.”

“Tomas said that?” Seteth scoffed. “Preposterous. I have far too much to accomplish to waste time with this foolishness.” He exited hastily, the book still with him.

“He was certainly in a hurry. I wonder if he's off to confront Tomas. Well, he took the picture, so I guess that's that for now. I'll see you later, Teach.” 

“I’ll see you later, Claude. Don’t get into trouble. Bailing out Sylvain was as intense as it gets, I don’t know if I could do the same with you and Seteth.” They laughed, and she waved goodbye as she left the library.

It was a lot to think about, that was certain. Sothis was quiet, she had been piping in less since Rhea revealed “The Goddess Sothis,” and since the fainting spell Byleth had. She could only hope things would go smoothly at Remire.

****************

It was more horrifying than she could have possibly imagined. She slipped from Jeralt’s horse before even registering what she was doing. People who she’d had conversations with, who she had protected and known, turning on each other, some with their faces twisted insanely, their movements unnatural. Their eyes were dilated, and when they fought, they fought to kill. Right at the back, people in cloaks, unscathed, were watching it all. 

“Try to rescue the villagers. All of them. Knock out who you can, but protect those unaffected first. Now! Don’t hesitate!” 

They went off easily, in groups of four, each led by someone different. Byleth took Claude with her down to the suspicious individuals, Sylvain leading the right, Hilda leading the left, and Leonie and Jeralt’s team leading with any stragglers and providing support to whoever needed it.

“It can’t be…” Claude started, as Byleth knocked down an affected villager with the hilt of her sword. She recognized him as the inn owner. She hoped he wouldn’t be too harmed when he woke. “The one giving orders to the weird ruffians. Isn’t that Tomas?”

He was right. That explained where he’s been all month. Doing unspeakable acts to the one place Byleth and Jeralt could imagine fondly. All those memories were replaced forever by the images of the possessed villagers, murdering their own as the unaffected watched in horror, afraid to fight back against their families and friends. She was angry. But most of all, she had to go after him.

She charged forward with a cry, her sword whipping around her, her sights on Tomas. He chuckled, a dark aura surrounding him. She was caught with fear as it hit her, and he transformed, bones cracking, his back cracking inhumanly, his face growing long and his eyes growing black. He was inhuman, not the kind man she had come to know these past months. He was, in every sense of the word, a monster. “What’s the matter?” He cackled, noting the terror and anger on her face. “So shocked you can’t even speak? You were so easily fooled by my disguise… I was hiding away in Garreg Mach to get the blood of that little girl called Flayn. With her blood, we’ll be one step closer to realizing our goal!”

The Death Knight warped in. This was going from bad to worse. He turned his gaze towards Sylvain’s group, who was focused on aiding the townspeople. “I’ll have a bit of fun here too…” he laughed, pulling out his scythe.

“That’s the Death Knight!” Jeralt called, motioning for Leonie to step behind him. “He must be an ally of Tomas… or Solon, or whatever he calls himself.”

“They charge without any plan whatsoever. Beasts, all of them… The experiment is over. Kill them!” With a snap of his fingers, his mages cast, and the villagers, old, young, unaffected, unconscious, were killed, wounds forming in their heads. It was senseless murder. Not a single one of them was spared. 

“You monsters!” Claude screamed. “We could have saved him!”

Everything happened in a blur. The Sword of the Creator was in her hands, glowing with her anger, her crest flaring as she charged to strike him. “Ah, the cursed Fell Star… This will be a fine opportunity to measure your power.” He shot a spell at her, hitting her in her stomach. She could feel the blood starting to bloom in her midsection, but she had to end this. She could be healed later, and the adrenaline was keeping her moving. The sword cut through his wards, cut through to him, and he fell, a bitter laugh escaping him as he coughed blood.

“Why have you gone after this village?” Jeralt asked, angry, riding up next to Byleth. “What are you planning?” His lance was at his throat.

“Heh, I could have conducted this experiment on any test subjects.” He felt his stomach, his hand pulling away wich ichor staining it. “Now that I have what I came for, I must bid you farewell.” His bloodied hand drew on the stone, and he warped away, before Byleth could strike again.

“Wait!” Jeralt called. “Dammit, he’s gone.” 

“It's over…” Claude choked out, exhaustion in his voice. “All we can do now is focus on our next move. I'll have a look around the village. There may still be people who need our help.”

“Is everyone alright?” Jeralt called. Byleth’s vision was swimming. Her students were tired, some had taken blows to try to protect villagers, but it was all for nothing. 

“Marianne, heal…” She clutched her stomach. “Heal your classmates.”

“Byleth,” Jeralt called, and she put up a hand. “I’ll be fine, protect the… Students.”

She felt numb, and the edges of her vision were starting to blacken. “Byleth!” She heard a call, and she fell, again, the mixture of the wound and her dizziness hitting her full force.

Jeralt didn’t catch her in time, watching her fall to the ground, lying in her own blood and Solon’s. Her breathing was wet, and he peeled her hand away from her stomach. The wound was bad, gushing blood, and he ripped a piece of cloth from his armor, pushing on the wound. “Not yet, dammit. Not yet,” he muttered, his daughter’s blood coating his hands. “Is there a healer among you or not? Help your damn professor!”

“I used too much of my mana healing villagers and students,” a soft voice spoke. “I’m so useless, this is my fault, I killed the professor.”

“Marianne, stop it! You did what you could!” Hilda hugged her, watching in horror.

“Marianne’s our best healer and Flayn didn’t come with to the mission, Professor didn’t think she was ready…” Ignatz trailed off.

“Dammit. She can’t swallow a vulnerary like this, we’re gonna have to get her back to the monastery. Who else has a horse?”

“I do, sir.” Sylvain came forward, his face solemn at the form of his professor. He, like the rest of the students, had thought she was invincible. She couldn’t be dying, right?

“I have a wyvern, Captain Jeralt, sir,” Claude piped up. “As does Hilda. It’s faster if one of us takes her.”

“Claude, you’re house leader. Go.” 

“Claude’ll be focused on steering. I can come with, make sure she’s okay on the ride there.” Sylvain really wanted to help. Jeralt contemplated. The way they both looked at her, the way  _ all  _ her students looked at her, she was in capable hands.

“You, redhead, keep holding pressure here, the whole time. Do not let go until a healer has got her. Claude, get her there safe. I’ll load her on your mount.”

It was a whole process to move her. She groaned in slight pain, but Sylvain made sure her wound was covered. Claud had a fire in his eyes as he lifted off, being careful not to jostle Byleth. He set off, their forms disappearing on the horizon. 

“Claude?” Sylvain asked, once they were well there.

“What, Sylvain?” He was annoyed.

“I didn’t want to mention this to the others, but she doesn’t have a heartbeat.”

“What do you mean she doesn’t have a heartbeat?”

“I  _ mean,”  _ he cleared his throat. “I mean she doesn’t have a heartbeat. Her heart is literally not beating.”

“Sylvain, that doesn’t make any sense.” Claude kept riding. “I don’t know what kind of game your trying to play here.”

“I’m not playing a game! She has a pulse, but no heartbeat.” He could tell she had a pulse, with the throbbing of the blood he felt in her wound, but with his hand on her chest, he felt no beat. “We need to get there, fast.”

“Alright, dude, alright! I’m flying as fast as I can.” He sighed. “Listen, I don’t want to lose professor either. She’s become… she’s invaluable.”

Sylvain nodded in sympathetic silence. He felt the same way, after all. He didn’t know exactly what he felt, that was for sure, but he felt something, and his stomach was churning with worry. 

The monastery came into view, and the sun was starting to rise. Claude guided the wyvern to Rhea’s personal balcony, ignoring the shouts from Pegasus Knights as he landed. “What’s the meaning of this---” Rhea began, anger, but fizzling out when she saw the professor. “Sylvain, go call Seteth and tell him to bring as many bishops as he can. I will take over for you. Claude, take your wyvern back to the stables.” The two boys nodded, both of them off in a heartbeat. “Mother,” Rhea whispered, pumping white magic into the wound. “I can’t lose you again. Not before I have the chance to see you again.”

*****************

Byleth stirred awake, groaning as she propped herself up on her elbows. The wound was closed, but an angry bruise bearing the signs of magic was left there, and it hurt when she breathed. But, for the moment, she was fine. 

“Professor!” Manuela exclaimed, noticing her awake. “I’ve been tending to you for 2 days waiting for you to wake up!” She frowned. “Goddess, you gave us all such a worry. How rude to make me wait so long to tell you my newest woes!” Despite her words, a caring smile grew on her face.

“Sorry, Manuela,” she forced out. 

“Oh, you don’t need to talk. Just rest and listen!” As she began to talk about her most recent misfortune in love, her hands moved to Byleth’s stomach, pumping white magic into the injury. It stung, but focusing on her story kept her grounded. 

“And then, all of a sudden, I got this letter after that Knight threw that fish at me! And let me tell you, Professor, I have never felt so moved. I think I may be in love with this secret admirer! I can tell by his handwriting that he’s handsome.”

“What did the letter say?” Byleth normally wouldn’t indulge Manuela with interest, but she was genuinely hooked on the story.

Manuela got a dreamy look on her face. “It was talking about how beautiful and fair I am, and how he wished I could find someone who sees me as he does, as the goddess reincarnate, with a voice that would make even Nemesis weep, and how headstrong I was only made him fall for me harder. Downright charming, no?” She giggled.

“Did he sign his name?”

“NO! Which drove me crazy! He said he hopes our souls can meet at the Goddess Tower later this month, at the ball.” Manuela removed her hands. The injury was only slightly noticeable, now, the tiniest amount of green around the edges. “I think you should be good to go, now. Do you want me to walk you back to your room?”

“Wait, Manuela, what’s this about a ball?”

Her jaw dropped. “You know, the ball! To celebrate the founding of Garreg Mach?” Her blank look did nothing to soothe Manuela. “Oh, Goddess, don’t tell me you haven’t even  _ thought  _ about who you’re going to dance with?”

“I-I was assuming it was for the students,” she defended. “I don’t know how to dance!”

“Oh, Professor,” Manuela tsked. “What would you do without me?”


	6. Two Right Feet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Part One of the Ethereal Moon: The month before. Byleth learns to dance, Sylvain gets some advice from friends, and someone celebrates a birthday.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello there! Yes, I am bringing the birthday back! I had decided when starting this fic to have the birthday of Sothis/Byleth's fake birthday be in the Ethereal Moon for Dramatic purposes. This is gonna be a multiple parter, everyone! Are you ready for the Goddess Tower? Who would you like to meet?

Chapter 6: Two Right Feet

She was back to teaching quickly, her wound having healed remarkably. Maybe it was because of her Crest, maybe it was because of Sothis, or maybe it was because she had every bishop in the monastery healing her. Either way, she was grateful, and indebted to Rhea.

Rhea wasted no time giving her new orders. Someone had snuck into an abandoned chapel, and though nothing was stolen, given the events of Remire, it was likely tied to the enemy’s next move. She was investigate slightly, and guard it if need be, with Jeralt assisting if he could after his own mission. Byleth could sense it was to prevent a repeat of what happened last time. He would be gone most of the month, but he promised to tell her something important when he returned. 

On top of all of that, the grand ball celebrating the founding of Garreg Mach was at the end of the month, just after her birthday. She dreaded it. She hadn’t ever danced with anyone, mostly just sort of swayed to music, but most of the time she was sleeping or fighting growing up. How was she supposed to keep up with all these nobles? 

Manuela had taken pity on her, and tried to teach her so many times, but she would end up tripping. It felt too unnatural to her. At last, Manuela sighed, and the next morning, they met for tea to strategize.

“Honestly, Professor, it’s hard to believe you’ve never danced with a man before!” She bemoaned, sipping her lavender tea. “Never experienced the lustful gaze right before a handsome man comes in to kiss you… oh, you make me feel old!”

“I’m sorry.” 

“I didn’t mean it that way! I think it’s a bit cute, actually,” she giggled. “I suppose I shouldn’t be too surprised, you don’t exactly exude charisma, but with a body like that I guess I just assumed.”

“It’s not like I had much of a chance. Growing up, we moved a lot, we were mercenaries. I guess I never really thought about it.” Byleth sighed, resting her cheek on her hand. “When all the men you spend time with are old and drunk, you don’t really have interests in that sort of thing.”

“Oh, but now you’re here, surrounded by strapping young men!” Manuela wagged her eyebrows. “Have any of  _ them  _ caught your eye?” Byleth choked on her sip of tea, coughing, thinking of the one kiss with Sylvain. “Oh  _ my,  _ now that’s interesting gossip! Spill.”

“I-I have not had anyone catch my eye!” She turned away, feeling the blush on her cheeks. “Besides, I’m a professor. No students allowed, right?”

“I actually don’t believe that’s a rule, only frowned upon, because of age gaps and power dynamics.” Manuela had a mischievous grin. “You know, you can’t be much older than most of your students. In fact, I even wager some are older!”

“I’m just here to teach! That’s all.”

“Ah, young love is wasted on the young!” She sighed. “Ugh, I wish I could fall in love to…”

“What about your secret admirer?” Byleth deftly turned the subject to Manuela.

“Oh, him? I can’t help but think if someone is so cowardly to write a letter instead of coming to me with how he feels, there’s no way he could handle a woman like me!” She sighed. “Besides, it’s foolish of me to believe in the magic of the Goddess Tower like the students do.”

“What magic?”

“Ah, piqued your interest, have I?” Manuela laughed. “Well, the students have a bit of a legend around here. They say that on the last night of the Ethereal moon, the same night as the ball, if a man and a woman go to the Goddess Tower and make a wish, it’s sure to come true.”

“The same time your secret admirer wants to meet with you?”

“Why, yes! I thought you had known. Now that we’re on this topic, is there someone that you would want to make a wish with?”

Byleth hated how fast the name came to mind. She blushed, shaking her head. “Oh, Professor! Tell you what, if you let me teach you how to dance for whoever came to mind, I’ll go meet my secret admirer. Deal?”

Byleth sighed. “Deal.”

****************

Manuela had found exactly the right way to teach Byleth how to dance. She used combat terms, working on her moves like you would a student learning a weapon. She was actually quite graceful at it, once she got out of her head. She could make a woman of the Ashen Demon yet. Surprisingly, one of her students had even won the White Heron cup! Manuela expected no less of Hilda. Even if Byleth was a horrible dancer, she would be able to teach, and Hilda would have coasted through either way.

Sylvain, on the other hand, was stressed to all hell. He could barely pay attention during class, his mind kept thinking about the Professor. That night she had gotten hurt, and she still took care of all of them first. He honestly thought she was going to die, and he hated how his heart felt wrenched from his chest when it happened. 

He especially hated how he was jealous, almost angry at Claude for having a wyvern. If he had ridden with his horse, she could’ve been dead. Why was he feeling this way? He’d never felt this before.

Why couldn’t he stop thinking about kissing her that night?

“Sylvain! Are you even listening to me?”

He snapped out of his daze, turning to look at Ingrid. “Thinking about your latest flavour of the week? Goddess, you’re insatiable.”

“You know, Felix said the same thing,” he muttered, and she smacked him lightly. “Hey! I’ve been pretty restrained lately!”

“If by restrained you mean falling all over yourself staring at every passing female, then, yes, you've been restrained. Mark my words—the more you hurt people, the more weighty the repercussions will be. Your actions will come around to bite you.”

He wagged his eyebrows jokingly. “Heh, if I get bitten, that’s all part of the game! Heck, I had one girl’s brother come after me with a pitchfork. Heh,” he laughed at the memory.

“If you end up getting maimed or killed by a pitchfork, don't expect me at your funeral. Glenn used to make light of getting hurt too. Then one day, he got more than hurt. Now he's gone.” Ingrid looked down, fumbling with her hands. 

Right. Ingrid’s fiance, and Felix’s brother. When he died in the tragedy of Duscur, they all were hit hard. Sylvain looked up to him, and one day he was just… gone. “I'm sorry. I was being... You're right. I know what it did to you when he died. It hurt to see you hurt and not be able to do anything. When you wouldn't even come out of your room to take care of your horse…”

Tears threatened to fall. “Nothing has ever affected me the way his passing affected me.”

He forced a smile. “Well, I'm happy that you're better. Seeing you out and about helped me relax enough to be able to flirt with girls again!”

“Your predictability is utterly disappointing,” Ingrid groaned, but he could see a smile tugging at the corner of her lips. “When I finally stopped mourning, you know what brought me back? My concern. For you.”

He scoffed. “Me?”

“You know you can't get along without me following in your shadow and caring for you. You flirt with anything that has a pulse, offend people left and right, and constantly cause commotion.” Another punch on his arm. 

“Ow! The truth really does hurt!”

“Please, Sylvain. Consider your actions before you carry them out. And stop acting so nonchalant about getting hurt or killed. Promise me that.” She wasn’t saying everything she wanted to.  _ Don’t get yourself killed because I can’t lose you too.  _ He sighed.

“I promise.”

She smiled. “Now, with the ball coming up, I can’t imagine you possibly bringing one of your flings to the Goddess Tower. So who is it in that head of yours?”

He laughed. “Sorry, Ingrid, I don’t kiss and tell.”

*****************

Byleth was tired, having graded the most recent certifications, and doing a rather intense training lesson with her students. So many had transferred to the Golden Deer house for the chance to learn under her, the other houses looked almost barren. Even Dimitri and Edelgard looked like they wanted to switch sides.

She sighed as she walked her way back to her room, slugging along. It was her first birthday without her father present, and it wasn’t his fault, but it put a damper on things. She wasn’t one for celebrating birthdays anyway, but he would always refuse missions during those days, to spend time with her. Usually they’d spend it sparring and he’d talk a little about her mother, but never very much. She barely knew anything about her mother, and knew not to pry by the way Jeralt’s face would change at the subject. As she got older, he stopped altogether, but she didn’t mind. He was all she needed.

Well, he was all she needed before. Now, she had a family full to bursting that she had found at Garreg Mach. Each of her students held a special place in her heart, and, as Claude had said before, they were irreplaceable to her life now.

“ _ Hey now! No gloomy thinking on our day of birth! You’re not alone this year! I am still here.” _

Byleth chuckled. “Sorry, Sothis. You’re right. What would you like to do?”

“ _ I know you’re… yawn… tired. I am as well. But… I can’t help but want to make this day more exciting! I am… bored.” _

“Well, we could always go hunting for stray bandits.”

“ _ Ugh, just like you to suggest fighting… but it is better than sitting alone in your room… Oh, who is that approaching?” _

Alois was jogging up to her, his armor having been discarded, a rare sight, but understandable given the time. “Oh, Professor! I’ve been looking for you everywhere. What are you doing out so late?”

“I was catching up on lesson plans.” She smiled. “Is there something I can help you with?”

“Actually, yes… it’s Rhea, she needs to speak with you.” His face turned serious.

_ “Really? Today of all of the days?”  _

“Is everything alright?” Byleth fumbled to her side, but her Sword was absent, sitting at her desk in her room. Right. “Do I need to stop at the armory?”

“No, no, none of that! Just hurry! With me!” He was dragging her along quickly, towards the greenhouse. Rhea must have been gardening, but why she would need to speak to Byleth now made no sense. 

“Why isn’t Rhea in the audience chambers?”

“Uh, I’m not sure! But she just requested to speak to you!” Deflecting the question.

“You’re a terrible liar, Alois.”

“ _ Oh, hush! This is much more exciting than whatever you had planned.” _

He stopped in front of the greenhouse, his hands behind his back. “Now, I know this isn’t the same as celebrating with Jeralt, but he told me your favorite things, and I relayed the list.”

“Relayed the list…?” She trailed off as he opened the doors, where her students jumped up from behind plants, shouting their surprise and throwing cuttings of flowers towards her.

“Happy birthday, Professor!” They all shouted, grins on their faces. A few of the staff was there as well, Manuela doing a small charm that caused light to shimmer from her finger as it shot into the air. Hanneman made a tiny glyph of the Crest of Flames in his palms, smiling warmly, as Rhea looked on with happiness. 

“Oh, she isn’t saying anything! She hates it, doesn’t she?” Ingrid put a worried look on her face, as the students faces fell. 

“I love it!” She said, smiling. It was the kind of smile she didn’t do very often, where her eyes squinted and her teeth showed, and her face felt like it was stretching to accommodate her mouth. She had never experienced anything quite like it before. 

“Now that’s the smile of a breathtaking woman!” Sylvain exclaimed, earning simultaneous arm punches from Ingrid and Felix. Claude laughed at the exchange, and Hilda joined in. 

“Can we eat the cake yet? My stomach is grumbling!” Raphael exclaimed.

“Do you only think about food?!” Lysithea asked, her face turning sour.

“Raph, I bet you I can eat more than you!” Caspar cut in, putting on a show of his muscles. 

The room soon turned into raucous conversation, feeling more like a party. People from all houses were there, and it felt just like the feast they had the previous month. And with the ball just around the corner, romances were beginning to bloom, Byleth was noticing. Hilda looked at Claude with immense love in her eyes, teasing him just to see him blush. Ingrid blushed as she rolled her eyes at Felix and his mumblings, Ashe and Marianne sweetly speaking in the corner, Dorothea teasing Ferdinand, Bernadetta hiding from Caspar, and, of course, the biggest love story blooming, Raphael and the cake. She laughed to herself as she watched it all, as Manuela slid next to her.

“Honestly, after all this talking we’ve done, and you never mentioned it was your birthday this month!” She sounded upset, but the smile at her lips said otherwise. 

“It never came up,” Byleth replied, laughing. “Besides, I enjoy hearing about you more than I do talking about myself. Your stories are so much more interesting than anything I’ve ever lived.”

“Oh, stop it, you’re making me blush!” She laughed, and Byleth noticed Hanneman turn his head toward the sound, quickly looking away as he blushed. So it wasn’t just the students experiencing these feelings. “Now, this reminds me. Now that practically the entire Officer’s Academy is here to celebrate your birthday, don’t you think you owe me in saying if the person who’s caught your eye is here?”

“I never said I liked anyone like that. I feel like I must remind you.” She shook her head, smiling.

“Teach has a crush?” Claude came up, with his hinds behind his back. “Now that’s some interesting gossip! I was beginning to think she wasn’t human like the rest of us.”

“Mister Von Riegan! No teasing the Professor on her birthday.” Manuela stalked away, looking back with a wink. “That’s my job!”

“So it’s true, then?” Claude’s eyebrows wagged. Byleth rolled her eyes. 

“Unfortunately for all those inclined, no. You’ll have to find your gossip somewhere else.”

“Got some hot news for us, Teach?” The cheeky voice. She didn’t even have to look up to know who it was. “Tell us, then, who’s the lucky man?”

“What makes you assume it’s a man?” She said suggestively, beginning to walk away. 

“Ooh, don’t leave us like that! Now I have to know!” 

She put on her most serious face, which came with ease, after all the practice she’d put in over the years. “If you must know, it’s quite scandalous, and you can’t let anyone know.” The boys leaned in. “It’s Seteth. We’re having a torrid love affair! He has taken my heart, and now when he’s apart I can hardly stand to breathe!” 

“P-professor!” 

Her eyes went wide, and she blushed. She turned, greeting the green-haired man. “How horribly inappropriate of you to say to your students! You must know I’m widowed, and as Rhea’s second hand, it would be utterly inappropriate for someone of my standing to--” He noticed the snickering boys behind her. “Ah, I see. Some birthday hijinks you’ve pulled, Professor?”

“My sincerest apologies, Seteth.” She bowed. “I hope you don’t hold this against me.”

He cleared his throat, looking away with a blush. “Well, it is your birthday… Just so long as it doesn’t happen again.” He strode away, back towards Rhea. 

“Want to tell us more about your torrid love affair with Seteth, Teach, or are you just going to slink off in shame?” Claude snorted, hiding his smile behind his hand. 

“Listen, if it’s passion you’re looking for, you’d be better suited in my hands,” Sylvain winked. She rolled her eyes and left them there, laughing.

“Professor, can I have a moment?” It was Dorothea, with all the girls in tow. She had a box in her arms, and a smile. “The girls and I would love to speak with you, outside.”

She had barely opened her mouth to respond when they were pushing her through the doors and towards the docks, giggling and whispering with excitement. They sat her down, and thrust the box in her lap, as they all watched eagerly.

“We all pitched in,” Leonie started, looking away with a blush.

“Some of us more than others!” Hilda laughed.

“We all heard about how you’ve never been to a dance before… and we got to thinking how you probably didn’t even have a dress.” Ingrid shyly looked on as she opened the box.

The fabric was flowy, a transparent silk in layers. The bodice was modest, with short sleeves made of navy blue lace, to match her hair. There was a gradient affect, as it reached the hem line, into a dark mauve color. It was gorgeous.

“I know it isn’t as elegant as some of the other dresses would be,” Dorothea started, but she cut her off with a smile. 

“It’s lovely. But I’m not sure when I’d have the chance to wear it.” She folded it back into the box, placing her hands over it. 

“Well, obviously, to the ball!” Lysithea blurted. She covered her mouth with her hands sheepishly. “I mean, sorry, Professor. We were thinking you were attending.”

They all looked so hopeful when she looked at them. She understood, right then and there, what a guilt trip was. She sighed, and nodded. “Alright. I’ll attend.”

They cheered, giving claps of excitement. “I simply  _ must  _ do your makeup!” Dorothea began, and soon they were all fighting over it. Byleth had to clap her hands to get them all to calm down. 

“Thank you, all of you, but I believe you’ll have your hands full getting your own selves ready.” She smiled softly. 

“Fine, but if we finish early, you have to promise you’ll let us help!” She sighed, nodding. More squeals as they followed her back inside, Cyril putting his hand to his head like a soldier as he took the box back to her quarters, and she was happy.

****************

Goddess, she was exhausted. She sat down on the sidelines at last, and it felt like her first time doing so all night. She had managed to grab a slice of the cake, which Ashe had made with Mercedes. It tasted like blueberries and cream. She sighed when she took a bite. It was delicious.

“Tired, Teach?” Claude asked, slipping into the chair beside her. 

“Utterly exhausted.” She took another bite. “But happy.”

“Ah, then you don’t need the gift I got you, then.” He smirked, and held up his hand. A small box caught her eye.

“You know, Claude, I’m not materialistic,” Byleth rolled her eyes, turning away. “This birthday was perfect, either way.”

“Okay, okay, I’ll stop teasing. Here.” He placed the box on the table. When she opened it, she saw a golden bracelet, with the insignia of the Golden Deer house. It was shiny, and beautiful, and though she’d never wear it, it was a nice sentiment. “It’s to remind you that when you’re feeling down, you’ll always have a piece of us.” 

“Awfully sappy of a gift, wouldn’t you say?”

He grinned, rubbing his neck. “I know, I felt sick even saying it. But the sentiment remains.”

She smiled, slipping the box into her pocket. “It’s wonderful. Thank you.” 

*****************

Sylvain watched as they talked from the dance floor, sipping on his drink bitterly. How could Claude make her laugh so easily? And he had even gotten her a gift for her birthday. How was he supposed to measure up?

He wasn’t sure if it was the fact that she was unattainable that he was after, or the knowledge that she didn’t care about Crests. Perhaps some part of him thought that if he won her over, on his own terms, it would be because she cared for  _ him,  _ not his name, and not what the benefits of loving him would be. He sighed.

“The Professor, huh?” Felix asked, leaning next to him. “She’d never go for you. Here, eat these.” He gave Sylvain a tied bag. 

“Weirdo, you can’t just come up to someone and go ‘eat thes--’” He was interrupted by Felix slipping something into his mouth. He chewed, mellowing. Sweet. “Is this candy?”

“A girl in town gave them to me, but I don’t want them.” 

“Right, you don’t like sweet stuff. You know, you could’ve given ‘em to the Professor for her birthday, but I’m not complaining.” He slipped the bag into his pocket. “Thanks, I’ll eat ‘em later. So, what do you need? Want me to help you get closer to a girl? Just point her out.” He wagged his eyebrows at Felix’s eyeroll.

“You're incorrigible. No. I wanted to thank you for your help in battle. If you hadn't spotted that enemy ambush, I would have been killed.” He looked forward, not meeting Sylvain’s eyes. 

Sylvain grinned. “Nah, I didn't do anything special. Friends help each other out, especially on the battlefield. Just a little give and take, ya know?”

Felix scoffed. “You never change.”

“Nope.” He grinned harder. “I try to keep on an even keel.”

“You’re always…” He trailed off.

“Always what?” Sylvain’s grin fell. 

“Nothing.” Felix began to walk away, but Sylvain lightly grabbed his wrist.

“Come on. If you’ve got something on your mind, say it! We’re friends, I can take it.” 

Felix sighed. “Maybe I’ll tell you later. Maybe I won’t.”

“Fair enough. I'll be grabbing another slice of cake while you’re deciding… whatever it is you’re deciding.” He gave a look. “If you  _ do  _ want to talk, I’m right here.”

He seemed to be mulling it over. “Fine. But just this once. Because you saved my life in Remire.” Sylvain leaned in conspiratorially. “I think… I may have feelings. For someone.”

“Is that all? I thought you were dying or something.” Sylvain laughed even as Felix glared at him. “But seriously. Now’s the perfect time to have feelings for somebody. It’s our school years, and the ball is around the corner. I say go for it.”

“I just worry… if it’s too soon. If maybe I shouldn’t.” He sighed, watching someone on the dancefloor. Ingrid and Bernadetta were twirling together, with Dorothea giving pointers with her best Professor voice. “Besides, there’s brewing conflict. I just don’t get it. You’re always so…”

“Smooth? Easygoing?” Felix nodded. “Listen, I hate to tell you this and ruin the illusion, but… I’m not, actually. If you put me in front of the girl I really liked, I’d be just as much of a mess as you are. Actually, probably even more, because of how I’m used to talking to girls.”

“The girl you really like, huh?” Felix gave a knowing look. 

“Oh, shut it, ponytail.” He blushed as he looked at the professor. Byleth. “I’m trying to be a real friend here!”

“Alright, virgin.” Felix smirked. His turn to be hit on the arm. 

“I swear, you’ll have me remembering that to my grave.” 

***************

She was the last to leave, sweeping the evidence of the party from the stone floor in the greenhouse. It was a fantastic birthday, but she was tired, and she didn’t feel it fair for the botanist or servants to have to clean up the mess because of her.

“Professor.” She paused, and turned around. 

Sylvain was standing there, leaning against the doorframe, a bouquet of flowers in his hand. The moonlight glistened off of his red hair, almost glowing in a halo around him. He truly was handsome, like how you’d imagine a folk hero to look. He gave her that devilish grin of his, dimples creasing his cheeks. It was no wonder so many girls had fallen for him. But that was exactly the problem. So many of them. “Sylvain.”

He looked at the flowers in his hand. “You know, before this year, no one’s ever given me a genuinely thoughtful gift. It was always something expensive, something befitting of a noble…” He looked up. “But when you gave me that vase of flowers, I knew how much time you had put in to thinking about it. It wasn’t flashy, or particularly amazing but… it had care in it. And it was special because it came from you.”

Byleth just stared, looking at him. He was… nervous. Or was he just putting the moves on her? 

“ _ Despite his reputation, he really does know exactly what to say.”  _

She wanted to kick Sothis, but she wasn’t corporeal, and only she could hear her. “I try to show I care for my students.” A perfectly neutral answer. 

“I know it isn’t some fancy golden bracelet or a nice dress or anything, but… Here.” He held out the flowers to her. Magnolias. “Like what you got me. I kept remembering how pretty they would look in your hair. Like white clouds in the night sky.”

She forced back a blush. Was he truly feeling this way, or was it just the energy of the night getting to him? Even if he was… it couldn’t last. He wasn’t a one woman type of man. She sighed. “Thank you, Sylvain.”

He turned to go, but stopped at the threshold again. He turned, like he wanted to say something, but held it back. He sighed, and crossed back to her, taking her cheek, and… kissing her forehead. “Happy birthday, Byleth.” 

She was left dumbfounded as he made his hasty exit. “Happy birthday, Byleth,” she repeated, touching her fingers to her forehead. She was an idiot.


	7. I Could (Not) Have Danced All Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Part Two of the ball, but the night is interrupted by troubling news.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, yeah, it's all coming together. Enjoy, my lovely readers! Sorry for the delay, I usually have these out quickly, but this one took a while. I wanted it to be perfect.

Chapter 7: I Could (Not) Have Danced All Night

Everything continued as normal. It was just one night of celebrating, after all. Sylvain had a girl on his arm the next day, and her students went back to their studies, albeit with daydreams about the ball. Byleth couldn’t help but feel excited herself. If nothing else, it was a day off.

_ Happy birthday, Byleth.  _ It played in her head again when she looked at the magnolias on her desk, next to her journal. She didn’t know why she was getting hung up on him. Sure, he was handsome, and he was an excellent warrior, and sometimes she could see how kind he was, like encouraging Bernadetta, or helping Marianne to smile, and the way he would smile sometimes made her breath catch…

With a start, she realized. Did she… like him? She wished Jeralt was here, to talk her down from it. He was literally the absolute worst person to fall for. He was a flirt, a skirt-chaser, he hated women, he had been rude to her  _ so many times,  _ yet… sometimes, she could see he was genuine, and kind, and a good person. She shook her head. Despite the small things, he was  _ Sylvain.  _ And she was the Ashen Demon. Who cared about relationships? She certainly didn’t, especially not right now, with so much complication in her life. 

She turned to her wardrobe, where the dress she had received for her birthday hung. She hadn’t tried it on, thinking it was silly to dress up like that. She could feel the mercenary inside of her cringing at the thought of dressing up for a ball, especially one that was specifically for students. 

“ _ You know, it would not hurt to try it on,”  _ Sothis smirked, floating to her side. “ _ After all, in another life, you could have been one of these students.” _

Byleth shook her head. “But I’m not. I’m a professor.”

Sothis rolled her eyes. “ _ How did I get saddled with the most boring mercenary in all of Fodlan?” _

Byleth sighed back. It really was a beautiful dress, and she didn’t want it to go to waste. It was modest, not as elegant as it could have gone with the likes of Hilda and Dorothea shopping, but it was perfect for her. Would it really hurt for her to try it on, just once?

It was an almost perfect fit. The neckline was a little lower than she’d have expected, but it framed her chest nicely, going into the sleeves that started on her upper arm. The skirt was flowy enough that she could move in it, with cascading translucent silk that when it moved looked like water, fading into the mauve color at the hem. It was a nice dress, that was for sure. But when she looked at herself in the mirror, all she could see was a mercenary playing dress up. She sighed, taking it off. Perhaps some day she would use it, but that day was not tonight.

As she put on her armor, the bells rang indicating that the feast before the ball was beginning. She heard students laughing on their way to the dining hall as they passed her room, and she smiled. They sounded happy, like how kids their age were supposed to sound. It had been a long couple of months, with so much that they had all experienced. First kills, betrayals, deaths in their families… it would be good for them to have a day where they could just be normal teenagers.

A knock on her door. She shuffled towards it, putting back on her cloak. Manuela barely waited for her to open it before she was coming inside, flopping on her bed. “Come right in, Manuela,” Byleth muttered. 

“I still haven’t decided! Do I go to the Goddess Tower and be let down, or not and wonder what could have been?” She sighed, sitting up. “And you look… normal.”

“I don’t get why you’re so worried about it.” Byleth sat down at her desk. “What’s the worst that could happen if you went?”

“How are you so uninterested in love?” Manuela admonished. “Us ladies need to find someone to grow old with, before we start losing our good looks.”

“I would assume if it was true love, they wouldn’t care how you look,” Byleth sighed. “Besides, you aren’t old, Manuela.” 

Manuela was silent for a while, before speaking up, a twinge of sadness in her voice. “What's wrong with me? It's not my looks. I'm still gorgeous. Or am I? Be honest. Do I look old? No... Not possible. I'm the songstress who swept the Empire off its feet... Men professed their love for me hourly! It can't be my looks.”

Byleth laughed. “You’re very attractive.”

“I knew I was right! I’d be in real trouble if I wasn’t this beautiful.” A pause. “But… if the problem isn’t my looks-- and trust me, they aren’t the problem-- then it must be… what? My personality?”

Byleth rolled her eyes. “Your personality is fine.”

Manuela narrowed her eyes. “A girl can tell a lie when she hears one. You think there’s a problem, don’t you?” Byleth gave a shrug. “I suppose I can be a bit...unkempt. I do have a short temper, and I may be a little lazy... Sometimes. But I've always heard fellas, you know, like a woman with a few flaws. Seems to me, there are plenty of flawed girls who have landed themselves a good man. So maybe...my trouble is I'm not imperfect enough. Do you think I could use a few more flaws?”

Byleth shook her head. “No.”

“Why? Do you think I’m flawed enough already?”

Byleth sighed, leaning in. “You know, I don’t have a lot of experience in this subject. But I think you shouldn’t think so much about it, and go with the mood. Maybe you’ll meet the love of your life at the Goddess Tower, maybe not. But I didn’t take you for a coward, Manuela.”

Manuela just looked back at her. “You know what, Professor? Maybe you do have it figured out.”

****************

They walked to the ball together, laughing about stories they both had from their lives before the monastery. Manuela had insisted she try on at least a little makeup, just trust her, and alas, Byleth had endured. She was expecting something bold, like how Manuela wore her makeup, but when she looked in the mirror, she looked… normal. Her eyes had been accentuated with longer lashes, and the smallest amount of this lip stuff was put on her cheeks to give the illusion of being flushed. When she looked to Manuela in surprise, she scoffed. “You know, not many can pull off the look I do. So why were you expecting something bold?”

Everyone looked wonderful in their dress clothes. The house leaders wore their colors, with elements from their home countries incorporated into the design. The others had dress clothes that fit their personalities perfectly. They all looked so happy. Byleth wished that could last for them forever, but she had already had a taste of the nuances of nobility, going on excursions during the months with them. She knew it wouldn’t last.

The first dance began. Edelgard an Dimitri twirled effortlessly on the dance floor. It was captivating to watch as the two future rulers danced around each other, literally. Byleth smiled, imagining that their politics surrounding each other would be much the same. She looked around the ball room, as Claude approached her, giving a wink as he lead her to the dance floor. Her attempts at protest fell on deaf ears.

“The way you were resisting, I’d have assumed you were a terrible dancer, Teach,” Claude murmured in her ear.

“Thank Manuela, she wouldn’t give up,” she muttered back, smiling. 

Claude was exactly the kind of dancer she’d expected him to be. He wasn’t traditional, liked to add in steps, improvise on the spot. At one point, he dipped her, leading her to laugh as she struggled to remain balanced. At long last, the song was over, and he bowed, giving a wink as he turned away. Before she even had a chance to breathe, another had already taken his place as her dance partner.

Sylvain was draining the last of a champagne flute as he watched the exchange. He didn’t know what he had expected tonight, but the professor ending up with Claude was not something he was fond of. Did Claude really like her? How was he supposed to compete with a king? He was just some skirt-chaser with a title and a Crest. At least Claude made her laugh.

“You’re certainly seething,” Felix noted, a smirk on his lips. “You know, jealousy isn’t a good look on you. Your face matches your hair.”

“Did I hear that right? Sylvain’s jealous?” Ingrid slipped into to his other side. “What an interesting example of karma.”

“I was thinking the same thing, Ingrid.” 

“Can you two cool it for a minute and listen?” He turned around to face them both. “I’m not jealous!”

They were silent. Sylvain sighed with relief. 

“That’s definitely the sound of a jealous man.” Sylvain put his hand to his forehead, turning to face the soon to be King of Faerghus. “Though I have never, in all our years of knowing each other, known you to be the jealous type.”

“Exactly!” He put his arm around his childhood friend. “I don’t get jealous. I mean, how could I be jealous of anyone? I’m Sylvain Jose Gautier!” 

Ingrid snorted as she rolled her eyes, and Felix looked unamused. Dimitri seemed entirely unphased, just smiling and patting him on the back with a knowing look in his eyes. “Yes, you are.”

  
The trio left him, Felix and Ingrid moving to the dance floor. They didn’t dance together, though he caught Ingrid sneaking glances his way. And they said he was the jealous one. He looked back at the Professor, dancing now with Lorenz, who was talking her ear off. With one last sip of champagne, he took his own girl to the dance floor.

*****************

_ “Running away? I understand. You hardly had the time to breathe in there. It must be hard to be the favourite teacher at the ball! Poor, poor Professor!” _

Byleth scoffed. “I’m not everyone’s favorite.”

“ _ Was that a joke? I find it hard to tell with you. Just think of all the students begging you to dance!”  _

Not everyone, Byleth thought. 

“ _ But where is there to run? This place is filled with joyful students looking for a dance… Oh, I see. The Goddess Tower Waits for you.” _

“I don’t like the way you’re saying that…” she muttered, but her legs carried her the direction of the stairs all the same. 

It was a long way to the top, but with the amount of training Byleth did, she wasn’t tired. The cool night air was welcome on her face, the weathered stone offering seclusion. There was a couple to the side, embracing, but it was too dark to see anything. Perhaps this was why the legend had started. A good place for privacy. 

And it certainly was romantic, in a way. There were some curling branches over the arches, perfectly symmetrical to each other. The rail was polished stone, and the Ethereal Moon shone onto Byleth from its place in the sky, the stars twinkling. It was a miraculously clear night, the sky absent of clouds. She sat there, watching it, for what felt like hours. 

“Lovely night, isn’t it?”

She flinched, turning to look at Sylvain, who was watching the sky. He was leaning on the rail. The way the moonlight illuminated him made Byleth’s breath catch. 

“Just look at those stars.” He kept his gaze upwards. “You know, I couldn’t find you in the ballroom. I figured you were headed to the Goddess Tower, and… I got curious about who you might be meeting. But here you are, all by yourself…” He was blushing. “This isn’t a lover’s tryst at all! Heh heh…” 

“Tryst?” She raised her eyebrows at him.

“Oh, yeah,” he laughed, turning towards her. “The Goddess Tower is where lovers meet. Didn’t anyone tell you?” He turned back to the moon. “They say that if you exchange vows here, they always come true. It’s a sacred place for lovers.”

“So then where is your ‘lover’?” She asked, half joking. 

“Well, the person I’m interested in… is already here.” 

She looked towards the embracing couple. He must have been too slow. “Well, that’s unfortunate.”

He laughed, shaking his head. “I mean you! You’re here alone, I’m here alone. I was thinking maybe…”

She blushed. “Wait, me?”

She looked so pretty when she blushed like that. “Well, of course! We’re the only two people here, aren’t we? I keep thinking about it, and it just makes sense. My Crest, and yours…”

Disappointment filled her. Her Crest. Despite all his talk about being used for his, he was doing the same to her. She was an advantageous match. He was proposing marriage. It wasn’t real. And even if it was, he was  _ Sylvain.  _ He wouldn’t be able to do a real relationship if it was staring right at him. She decided to laugh it off. “Marry you? I can’t even trust you to come to class on time.”

“Oof, okay, true.” He looked a little hurt. “You know, I’ve never regretted any of my past behavior before… until you turned me down just now.” She sighed, and he held her face, forcing her to hold his gaze. “I’m going to get it together, and be a man you can trust. I know it sounds like just another one of my games, but it’s true. I’ll prove it to you. I promise.”

Byleth wanted to believe him. She really, honestly did. But she couldn’t. Not yet. Not now. “I’m sorry, Sylvain.”

He smiled. “Hey, don’t apologize! You have nothing to be sorry for.” He let her go, and Byleth could literally feel the air get colder as he stepped back. “I want to be able to give you a better kiss than the one you got. And… if even after all of that, you don’t trust me… I won’t protest you going after someone more worthy of your love. My only wish is that you wait for me.”

He was saying all the right things, but she knew he was all the wrong for her. But still… she nodded. He exited, then, but with his hand on the frame of the stairwell, he looked back. “It’s chilly out tonight, so be careful not to catch cold. And if you do get cold… you know where to find me.” She raised an eyebrow. “Sorry. Old habits die hard, I guess… Okay. Well, I’m heading back inside.”

He disappeared down the steps. “And my wish is that you’ll still have me.”

****************

On her way back down, Sothis piped up. “ _ It seems that everyone is having a delightful time. Will you not dance some more?” _

“I’d rather not.”

_ “How dull of you! Had I a body of my own... Oh, I would sing and dance until I fell upon the ground! But you... Hmph. Do you as will.” _

Byleth was almost to the main level when she saw Rhea walking swiftly past. She ducked into the stairwell, hiding herself. “ _ Ah, so you’re not the only one who feels that way. Look over there! You know, I am bored beyond compare. Will you not follow her?” _

“Why would I?”

“ _ Oh, come on, hurry up! I know that you are curious to see what she is up to. I hear… singing. From over there.” _

Byleth crept, watching as Rhea sang to the moon, a chilling melody. It seemed familiar to her, but she was sure she hadn’t heard it before. Sothis seemed to feel the same.  _ “That song... I feel I have heard it in the past... Actually... It is not that I have heard it. I... Did I once sing that song to someone? No. There's more. I wrote this song... Oh, but how could that be so? If that were true, then how could she be singing it? Unless... No, no. I am suddenly so exhausted... As are you, no doubt? Quickly then. To bed with you.” _

Byleth nodded, realizing how tired she was as well. She sighed as she headed back, though, still thinking about Sylvain. She could hardly believe that she had feelings for him. For one thing, she was almost positive he was only feeling this way because she was unattainable and because of her Crest. And secondly, he flirted with everything female that moved. Even his closest childhood friends didn’t trust him with women, and that rubbed her the wrong way. Still… there was something within him. Something kind, and caring. She wondered if maybe she could scrub away the facade he put up to the kindness within. She groaned, shaking her head. No! She wasn’t looking for someone she needed to fix. 

Alois cam running, then. He was in his armor, tired, and panicked. “Captain? Captain! Where are you?” He barreled right past her, barely registering her, until she cleared her throat. “Professor! Have you seen your old man?”

“Not since he left on his mission.”

Alois looked around anxiously for a moment, before sighing. “Too bad. I guess it’ll have to be you, then...”

Jeralt cut him off, approaching with haste. “I’m back. Sorry for the delay, my mission took longer than expected.”

Alois’s eyes lit up. “Captain! Thank goodness you’re here. There are reports of Demonic Beasts near the chapel!”

“The ball…” she muttered, realizing. 

“Nonsense,” Jeralt cut in, his face growing serious. “I haven’t heard anything about the monastery’s walls being breached.”

“That’s why I’m heading there now, to see what’s really going on.” He turned to Byleth. “You’ll join as well, won’t you?”

“Of course,” Jeralt answered for her. “We’re both sworn to protect this place.” 

She put a hand to her chin. “Where did they come from?” She wondered aloud.

“It's odd. Just before they appeared, someone saw a number of students heading toward the chapel. They were apparently acting strange, as though they weren't in their right minds. Shortly after, Demonic Beasts started to appear, one after the other.”

Her blood ran cold. Students.  _ Her  _ students. “Are the students safe?” She asked, her mind thinking about one in particular.

“Hm... The students... There's no way those Demonic Beasts got in from the outside... But none of that matters right now. We need to act. Go summon your students.” She nodded, understanding the conclusion he was drawing. The Demonic Beasts… she’d only seen them when they had corrupted someone. They needed to work fast, and smart. “Damn it... I wanted to talk to you about something important, but there's no time. There's never any damn time. But this is much more urgent, so it can hold for now. I'll meet you there.”

“We’ll have time later,” she promised, already turning to run to the dorms. She could only hope most of them had gone to bed for the night, and weren’t a part of the stragglers of lovers still entangled in one another. 

She stopped at her room, picking up her sword, as well as some secondary weapons. She knocked quickly on each of their doors, as they rubbed sleep from their eyes noting her sword at her hip, and getting ready themselves. The second floor dorms were a bit more difficult to get to, but she ran down them as fast as she could, knocking, and shouting for them to meet her in the entrance hall with their armor and weapons ready.

Sylvain’s door was the last she approached. It was slightly ajar, the lamp lit at his desk. She stepped in. He didn’t seem to be present. She tried to ignore how worried it made her feel.

It was nothing like she had expected. It was almost pristinely clean, with his bookshelf filled to the brim with different books. Books about Sreng, about different combat techniques, about strategy… On his desk was a journal, closed, with a quill resting next to a bottle of ink. Next to it was a vase, blue with gold detailing, with perfectly preserved magnolias and purple echinops that she recognized immediately. The birthday flowers she had gotten him. He kept them. She reached for them, inhaling.

“Professor?” 

She flinched, placing the flowers back down and turning to face Sylvain. He was already in his armor, the Lance of Ruin at his back. Oh. He must have already heard. “I was coming to look for you. There are Demonic Beasts in the abandoned chapel, and students were seen there…”

“I was already out. Alois saw me, said to get my armor together.” 

She nodded. “Well, let’s go then. No time to waste.” She ignored the blush creeping up, exiting, leaving him to follow.

******************

“There really are Demonic Beasts here... They're emerging from the chapel! I'll head that way. The rest of you, protect the students who weren't able to get away.”

Byleth nodded, and the students went off in their squadrons to protect. Byleth went with Jeralt to the chapel. “Protect the students at all costs! Do not engage unless necessary.”

She ran forward, swinging with her sword, towards the chapel with Jeralt. There were two Demonic Beasts that they wouldn’t be able to avoid, one between two ruins, and the other in front of the chapel. “That beast… there’s a stone or something on it’s forehead…” Jeralt pointed with his lance, riding up next to her. He sighed. “Do you really think you can keep going? Don't push yourself too hard.” He was worried, probably thinking about her wound in the last mission, and the fact that the ball had happened tonight as well. “Thinking about what happened in Remire village, it's clear you've gotten the hang of being a leader. Maybe you should have taken command of me too!”

She rolled her eyes, swinging again. The Sword of the Creator easily broke through a chink in the armor, allowing an entry for Jeralt’s javelin to pierce. They made quick work of it, together, though fighting a beast took a lot out of them both. When the beast was finally defeated, it writhed and its bones cracked, shrinking, skin stretching and retreating, and as the smoke cleared, she realized with horror what it had become.

“The Demonic Beasts were students… how could this be?” Jeralt echoed her thoughts. 

She looked around the courtyard, as her students dispatched of the other Beasts, realizing this truth as well. The Beasts fell, leaving dead students in their place. Just like Miklan. Sylvain stepped back, but steeled himself. He wasn’t letting himself think like that.

It was a difficult fight. They tried not to kill the Beasts, instead riders trying to take the students in peril back to safety, but it was impossible. The Beasts were relentless, and ignoring them lead to more casualties than if they had just faced them head on. She learned that the hard way, as she watched a Beast decimate the squad lead by Hilda. She struggled to pull back time, having to watch as they reanimated as their bodies stitched back together, unaware of the horrors they could have faced. 

By the time the last Beast was defeated, she was exhausted. She was already tired from the fight, and using her Divine Pulse to save as many people as possible had her breathless. Her students were tired as well. She gave them a nod, to pack up and go back to their dorms. They had done well, and would need as much sleep as they could grasp, given the guilt of killing their own classmates. Panting, she sheathed her Sword, as she approached her father, who was rooting through the Chapel. 

It was dawn at this point. Jeralt stood, a look of trepidation on his face. “There isn't a trace of evidence to be found in the chapel. This must have been something to do with Remire. Perhaps…”

“Wait!!!!!” 

It was the young girl, Monica she thinks her name was, running forward. Her cheery demeanor was off putting. But she was too exhausted to care.

“Huh? Another student?”

Byleth leaned against the doorway as they spoke. She was exhausted, and her eyes were threatening to shut from sleep. She was completely spent, her Sword even looking a bit worn, but she still needed to speak with Jeralt. He had promised.  _ She  _ had promised.

“Run along now.” She could tell that he, too, was tired.

“Thanks for all your help, sir!”

She skipped around, and he turned to face Byleth, but something wasn’t right. A glint of metal. Her face grinning. Jeralt grunting, and she could see the dagger, twisted metal as it was pulled from his back. He fell, and Monica gazed at his body with a sickening smile. Byleth’s breath caught.

“You’re just a pathetic old man!” Her words were unnaturally cheery, giggling. It made Byleth feel sick. “How dare you get in the middle of my brilliant plan… you dog!”

Byleth’s fist clenched. She forced herself, despite her exhaustion, despite the fact that it burned her blood as she moved. She reached for the threads of time. They were hazy, and difficult to find, but once she found them, she pulled with a yank. It went back to just moments before. She unleashed her sword, as Monica said her thanks again, but this time, she was ready. She swung, and it went right for her, right for her stomach as she pulled out the dagger, she could save her father, damn it all---

It connected with metal. A looming figure looked at her, blocking her strike, and she watched as Monica stabbed her father again. No. She could save him. She could still save him. She tried to pull back again, and she felt her veins scream at her to stop, but she could save him. She felt like she was burning from the inside out. Still, she reached, ignoring their conversation, ignoring the pain, until she felt a hand on hers, pulling her back.

_ “Killing yourself now will only do further harm.” _

The two had disappeared in a flash of red light. Byleth stumbled to him, falling to her knees, and pulling his head into her lap. She tried white magic, but it didn’t even spark at her fingers. “Sorry… It looks like… I’m going to have to leave you now…”

A drop of water fell on his face. A cry fell on her ears. Who was crying? Another drop. He chuckled, reaching for her cheek. “To think, the first time I saw you cry… your tears would be for me.” More fell on his face. “It’s sad, and yet… I’m happy for it… Thank you… kid…” his hand dropped, limp. 

All the years of holding her emotions in. All the years of putting personal feelings to the side, of being a perfect soldier, of being almost inhuman. All those years she forced herself not to feel. They spilled from her eyes, sobs spilling from her mouth, sobs wracking her body in shaky breaths. 

She screamed into the rain.


	8. Where Sorrow Steeps

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Byleth and the Golden Deer House deal with the aftermath of Jeralt's death.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello there! A lovely long chapter for you, my amazing readers! And wow, we're almost to the timeskip!!! I really enjoyed writing this chapter, because there was so much material to work with, but also, because I related hardcore to Byleth. My own father recently passed away just a few months ago, and I had a lot of conflicting feelings about it. I didn't watch him get stabbed, of course, but I did watch him go, as he was taken off of life support. I felt an emotional attachment to this chapter, and honestly while playing through the game (I only recently acquired it!) I felt the amount of sadness Byleth must have been feeling in the wake of Jeralt's passing. So, without further adieu, the chapter below!

Chapter 8: Where Sorrow Steeps

Sylvain was tired. It had been a long night for them all, leaving a night of dancing at the ball for a fight against Demonic Beasts that to their horror were their own classmates. Aside from that, he kept thinking about what the Professor had said to him in the Goddess Tower.  _ Idiot.  _

Marriage? He had proposed  _ marriage?  _ How stupid could he get? Of all the dumb decisions he’d made with women, this was by far the worst. Why did he even say that? 

Of course he was into her. She was strong, unlike anyone he had ever met. Her face was always strong, never wavering or betraying her thoughts. She was an excellent swordsman, but not only that, she was excellent at everything she did. She could even do magic. He had been jealous of her at first, for her seemingly endless abilities, along with her obliviousness to the world of Crests despite holding the strongest one. But as time passed, he realized she was caring, smart, strong, and noticed even the smallest things in people. It was no wonder she was everyone’s favorite professor. 

But despite her seeming perfectness, she also had her flaws. She wasn’t good at speaking to people, and she lacked people skills. She was short, shorter than some of the other girls, and certainly shorter than him. Her hair was uneven layers, clearly cut with abandon and haste rather than style. She didn’t let people in, and the life she’d lead as a mercenary only set to make her more distant than if she wasn’t. She was the Ashen Demon, a title earned, and Sylvain didn’t wonder why. 

Yet she was still beautiful. Her legs were long and toned beneath her tights, her arms muscular from her strength with the sword. He’d held the Sword of the Creator, once; they all had, she’d let them try it out. It was insanely heavy. How she wielded it with one hand was a mystery. Her face was unscarred, miraculous considering her line of work before the monastery, her eyes wide and big, violet, her mouth sometimes ajar in wonder and beauty. It was the kind of attractiveness that was obviously present at first, but it took getting to know her to really see her as beautiful.

With a somewhat sleepy start, he realized. He had fallen for her. 

Most of the other students had left by now, the few remaining taking off their armor sluggishly. Outside it had started to rain, the dark clouds covering the dawn that had begun to roll in. The drops were heavy, methodical. Sylvain almost fell asleep standing there to the metronome of their patter. Rhea approached, Seteth at her side holding an umbrella over them both. Likely checking in after what had happened.    
  


“Archbishop,” Sylvain started, giving a slight bow, the Lance of Ruin at his back. 

“Mr. Gautier, where is the Captain and the Professor?” Seteth asked. Rhea scanned the room. Neither was present. 

“The Professor sent us back when all the students were saved, and all the Beasts defeated. She stayed behind to check around with Jeralt one more time, I think.”

A look of worry passed the archbishop’s face, but it was gone quickly. “When was this?”

He couldn’t recall exactly how long it had been, but between their arrival back at the armory and the stripping of the armor, they should have been back by now. Rhea and Seteth seemed to realize this at the same time. 

“Seteth, find Shamir to scout, and some healers. Hopefully all is well.” The smile doesn’t reach her eyes. Seteth nods and is off. 

“Archbishop Rhea,” Sylvain started, bowing his head again. “I’d like to go with Shamir.”

She shook her head. “You’re tired, and you’ve been up for far too long. Get some rest, my child. You’re no use exhausted.”

He wanted to fight her demand, but he really was exhausted. His muscles ached and it took all his energy just to walk forward. He nodded. She watched him as he walked off, worry tying a knot in her stomach.

“Mother,” she breathed, looking up to the sky.

***************

Shamir had been woken up by a frantic Seteth, saying something about a professor. She grunted, pulling on her armor and taking her bow. She had gotten plenty of sleep, having forgone the ball; she was never one for balls.

Catherine was beside her in bed, also being alerted to it. She had insisted to come with, saying Thunderbrand would be helpful in the rain. Shamir knew, despite it being unspoken, that the relic-wielding Knight mainly wanted to ensure her safety. 

It had started raining, hard. The courtyard was a muddied mess, and it was foggy, difficult to see. The remnants of a battle long since over were still present on the field. Shamir kept to the shadows, Catherine using her sword as a guide to cut through the haze of rain. They both reached the chapel at the same time, several meters away from the two figures.

One was hunched over, unmoving. The other was in their lap. The mud that ran to Shamir’s feet was mixed with blood. She looked for any enemies. She saw none. Catherine nodded, affirming the same. They approached, slowly.

The hunched figure’s hair was wet, clinging to their skin, dark blue from the rain. Their face wasn’t visible, but it was obvious who it was. The Professor. In her lap was Jeralt Eisner, his eyes to the sky, a gaunt look on his vacant face. They realized, then, that it was his blood that coated their shoes.

“Professor, can you hear me?” Catherine asked. She attempted to peel her from Jeralt, but she held on tight. “Are you hurt?”

Shamir knelt down to feel Jeralt’s neck. No pulse. “Catherine…” She trailed off. 

She didn’t need to say anything. They had worked together so long, they could talk without even moving their mouths. All it took was a look to understand. It was no wonder their connection had translated into a relationship, though they both hated to admit they had one more weakness on the field.

“Professor, you have to let go. You can’t stay out here.” Catherine attempted to pull again, but she held on tight. Instead, she looked to Shamir, and they nodded in agreement. They pulled Jeralt from her, as some of the healers worked to spell her to sleep. She would thank them later, they hoped.

Shamir touched the wound, noting how cold the blood was, as well as the skin around it. It looked similar to Manuela’s had looked, but far worse of a condition. When she pulled her fingers away, they were coated in a purple ooze. The skin around the wound had webbed in sick purple. There was no doubt about it; this was the same culprit they had been fighting, or at least someone affiliated with them.

They carried the both of them carefully back to the monastery. The Professor was unwounded, just exhausted. The healers decided to bring her to her room. There wasn’t anything they could do. They would have their hands full doing an autopsy of Jeralt.

A student was sitting on the raised wooden walkway next to her door, another accompanying him. Catherine recognized one of them as Lord Lonato’s adopted son. The other was red haired. They both looked up when the two Knights approached.

“Professor! Is she…” The smaller asked, noting the blood coating their professor’s figure, as well as her unconscious state.

“No, just asleep,” Shamir answered quickly. 

“What happened to her?” The redhead asked, approaching. Concern laced his face. He brushed some of the wet hair from the professor’s. “Was she hurt?”

“She’s fine. But if you want to help, let her rest.” Catherine had gotten the door open with the skeleton key from Rhea, and Shamir moved to place her on the bed.

“Where’s Captain Jeralt?” The younger asked. He seemed to know the answer before the question left his lips.

“The Captain has…” Catherine glanced at Shamir.

“Dead.” 

***************

Byleth’s eyes blinked open. She was exhausted, her muscles sore and creaking. She couldn’t remember falling asleep, but it had been restless all the same. Her head was killing her.

With a shaky inhale, she remembered. Jeralt was dead. He died in her arms. She wasn’t sure how long she stayed out there. They had tried to pull her off of him, but couldn’t. That’s when she remembers feeling the warmth of a spell at the back of her head, knocking her out. That explains the restlessness and the headache.

She slowly got up from her bed, only then noticing the figure sitting in the chair at the end. He was asleep, dark circles under his tired eyes, arms crossed, and worry etched into his slumbering form. His red hair unkempt, unlike usual. Sylvain.

She looked at him for a moment. He looked innocent, but tired. Had he tried to stay up all night until she woke? No, it was more likely her students took turns. Right?

The bells signaling the morning rang, and he jolted awake, falling from his chair in surprise. On any other day she’d find it funny. But she was too tired, and too upset to do anything more than watch. He groaned, sitting up from the floor and rubbing his eyes. He looked up, noticing her staring. He smirked lazily.

“Like what you see, Professor?”

She didn’t respond, instead turning away, her eyes to the floor. She didn’t have the energy to scold his flirtations. 

“Dark expressions don’t suit you, Professor.” He got up from his spot, moving to sit next to her. He sat for a long time before speaking again. “You know, I wasn’t sure when you were going to wake up. You scared Ashe half to death when they brought you here. Half covered in blood and all that.” She kept her gaze to the floor. He sighed, standing up. “Someone will be back here eventually to check on you. I hate to leave you alone, but I can’t have the ladies seeing this mane unkempt, now can I?” A chuckle, though forced. 

He left her there, and she sighed, standing up herself. She had no way of knowing how long she was out, and she only hoped that whatever Jeralt had left her was still there. He had promised her once, that were he ever to die or disappear on the battlefield, to look in his quarters. She’d laughed it off at first, but now it was all that was holding her together. 

She had walked briskly and stealthily to the second floor of the monastery, wanting to avoid wandering eyes and pitying gazes. She didn’t need them. There was a near run in with a bishop, but she had managed to get by without notice. She found herself in Jeralt’s old room, and closed the door behind her, her back leaning against it.

It looked the same as it had before, nothing changed. But everything else had. Tears stung at her eyes, as she remembered Jeralt.

“ _ So this is where your father lived... Hm? Are you still crying? If turning back the hands of time was not enough to save his life, you must accept what came to pass was fate.” _

“Our enemies will pay,” she responded bitterly, wiping her face. 

“ _ Agreed. We cannot let the wicked ones run free.”  _

Byleth searched the room. He wouldn’t leave something for her eyes only out in the open. She looked underneath tables, in his drawers, even in sheaths of weapons. She finally stopped at the bookshelf. The books seemed the same as they always had. She reached behind the bookshelf, moving her hand until they felt something. She grasped it, and pulled it out.

A large, leatherbound journal emerged. She opened it. 

_ “Your father's diary... Huh, his handwriting is prettier than his face would suggest. Well, well! These entries here are from before your birth. He seems to have been writing this for quite some time. Hm? Ah... Read that part there. Horsebow Moon, Year 1159…” _

Byleth read the book, imagining Jeralt reading the entries to her.

_ Day 20 of the Horsebow Moon. All is cloudy. I can't believe she's dead. Lady Rhea said she died during childbirth. But is that the truth? And still, the child she traded her life for doesn't make a sound. Didn't even cry at birth. _

_ Day 25 of the Horsebow Moon. It's raining. The baby doesn't laugh or cry. Not ever. Lady Rhea says not to worry, but a baby that doesn't cry...isn't natural. Had a doctor examine the child in secret. He said the pulse is normal, but there's no heartbeat. No heartbeat! _

_ Day 2 of the Wyvern Moon. Sunny. I feel I must take the child and leave. But the church is always watching us... I don't know what Lady Rhea has planned. I used to think the world of Lady Rhea. Now I'm terrified of her. _

_ Day 8 of the Wyvern Moon. More rain. I used the fire that broke out last night to fake the child's death. Lady Rhea is in a state over the news. But I can't change what I've done. I've got to take the child and leave… _

  1. That was 21 years ago. And the child he spoke of… Sothis realized at the same time. “ _Well now! That baby must be you! That means… hm? Someone is approaching us.”_



Byleth snapped the book closed and hid it behind her back. The door clicked open, revealing a tired Alois, his eyes red rimmed and raw. He noticed her with a start. “P-professor!” He cleared his throat, looking around the room sadly. “To think that Captain… that Jeralt would meet his end like that. I hope you know that you were the most important thing in the world to him?”

“I was?” Byleth muttered, shocked. They’d never had an especially sappy relationship, more akin to leader and teammate than father and child.

“He wasn't the most emotional guy. I'm sure expressing his affection wouldn't have come naturally to him. After what's happened, it's up to me now. I, Alois, swear to protect you in the captain's stead.” He sighed. “Sorry. This isn't the time for my blathering. Lady Rhea is looking for you. I came to tell you that. I'll take my leave now.”

She took out the journal again, sighing, and hiding it back behind the bookshelf for safety. She could return to read it later.

**************

“Professor. I have been waiting for you. I am filled with grief at the loss of our most celebrated knight. Jeralt was an ally of many years...and also a dear friend.”

“Yet it had been so long since you last saw him…” Byleth trailed off in response.

Rhea sighed. “He...fell in love with one of the nuns here at Garreg Mach. Their love produced a child...whom she died giving birth to. It was her decision. She weighed her own life against that of her child's and, in the end, implored me to save the child. Your father...never truly accepted that decision. He took the child–took you–and disappeared without warning.”

“Who exactly  _ was  _ my mother?” Byleth asked.

“Your mother… she was my--”

Alois entered the room quickly, his face tense.

“Sorry for the interruption, Lady Rhea. There's something you must hear immediately. A report from the knights patrolling the area…”

She nodded. “Very well. Professor, you are dismissed for the day. Please rest and focus only on mending your heart. Understood?”

Byleth nodded. It seemed whenever she was about to get information, it was interrupted.

***************

Byleth had returned to the Captain’s quarters the next day, reading Jeralt’s journal while sipping some tea. Sothis narrated. 

_ “‘Day 5 of the Garland Moon. I picked some flowers for her and returned home.’‘The look of joy on her face at the sight of these flowers will be even more beautiful than the flowers themselves…’ Yeesh! That is enough. His entries from before your birth are full of such romantic blatherings as that. Oh… It must be deeply moving you to hear such things, but now is not the time for whimsy. Someone is here. You do not wish for them to see you in this state. So pull yourself together!” _

Byleth shut the journal again, blinking and regaining her composure. Claude entered.

“I thought I might find you here, Teach. Not the type to wallow in solitude, eh? That's a relief, let me tell you. So… What were you reading? Is that Jeralt's…”

“Diary,” she answered quickly, her hand still resting upon the book.

“So it is. Hey, maybe this thing has entries from when he left the monastery!” She nodded. “Is that so… He was the captain of the knights, but something made him leave the monastery in a hurry. If it has something to do with your birth, knowing what happened may get us closer to knowing what secrets the church is hiding… Teach… Would you mind letting me read that diary? I know how important it is to you, but I'm not asking lightly. Please, allow me to borrow it.”

She looked back at the book. She’d read the most important parts already, and a lot of it was just him talking about her mother. Though she’d always wanted to learn more, she felt too upset to read it. She nodded, with a sigh. “You may borrow it.”

Claude bowed with respect. “I'm forever in your debt, Teach. If you'd refused, I would've had to sneak in here in the dead of night. I wasn't looking forward to that prospect. Anyway, let me fill you in on what's been going on lately, and not just as thanks for pointing me to that diary.” His face grew serious. “Rhea dispatched the knights to various locations in a frantic search for the enemy. There's a rumor that she's already secured some information. Something big is gonna happen soon. That has me wondering… If you find out where the enemy is, what will you do about it? If you ask, I… No, scratch that. All of us students would gladly lend a hand. Even if it means going against Rhea's wishes. Don't forget it. Now go. Everyone's worried about you. You'd better show them you're in good spirits.”

He left, leaving her to think about what he’d said.

****************

She forced herself forward, despite the lingering pain she still felt. She had to move forward. She had to keep up or else she would fall behind, and then she wouldn’t be able to defeat those who took everything from her. 

The training dummies around the room looked a lot worse for wear by the time she was panting, and she flung her sword to the ground, sitting down behind it. Sweat had begun to bead on her forehead. She wiped it away.

Throughout the last couple of weeks, her students have walked around her with a soft step. Ashe had come for tea several times, trying to offer sympathy. He also witnessed his father’s death. She sympathized, but couldn’t help but feel it was completely different. Leonie, also, was a surprising comfort, considering the distaste and jealousy she felt for Byleth. But they both remembered Jeralt, and mourned him together. Though neither of them could fully understand. They hadn’t had to lose someone while knowing they could have saved them, if only they were stronger. If only they weren’t so weak.

Sylvain had also been behaving strangely. He hadn’t let up on his flirting, but he wasn’t really seeing girls anymore. He looked tired, and she caught him studying reason runes. She sat down next to him.

“Finally listening to reason?” She asked, attempting humor.

“With you professor? Never,” he chuckled. He looked at her. “I was thinking, there’s only ever so much I can do close quarters. I have to be able to protect those I care about even when I’m not right next to them.”

“That’s a noble cause.” She sighed, not knowing how to bring up what was on her mind. “I was wondering…”

“About my brother, and how I dealt with it.” 

She was surprised. He held his stare into her eyes, resolute. “He wasn’t a brother to me, not really. Only in blood. He got what was coming to him.” Something shifts in his eyes.

“But you wish it could have been different.”

“Yeah,” he nods, looking away. “I wished things could be different. If I had been the one Crestless, I wonder if I…” He trailed off, stopping himself. “But it’s not really the same as what you’re going through. I get that.”

She gave a soft smile, though it didn’t reach her eyes. “Thank you for indulging me.”

He snickered. “I’d be happy to indulge a few other wonders of yours --- Hey! I’m just kidding!”

****************

She was walking back to her room after a training session, when she heard running footsteps from behind. “Teach!” Claude yelled. She turned around. 

“Teach! Tomas… I mean…Solon and his lackeys. Their whereabouts have been discovered. Apparently they're lurking in the Sealed Forest, not too far from the monastery. Rhea has called back all of the knights who were out searching to round them up. Seems like it could take some time for them to make it back here…but she didn't ask for our help.”

Rhea was withholding the very information she had been searching for this entire month. “Why keep it a secret?” She tried to hide the bitter from her voice.

“Perhaps to prevent you from running headfirst toward revenge? It's only natural that you would leap at the chance for it. Anyone would.”

“No. I will not allow it.” The two of them whipped their heads around, seeing Rhea approach, her face resolute.

“This discovery comes just when the knights are at their busiest. It is all too likely that our foes revealed themselves to lure you out there. They are the ones who took Jeralt from you… I know how you must despise them, but I must ask you to rein in your personal feelings for now.” 

Byleth’s hand clenched into a fist, tight enough to draw blood. “You can’t stop me.”

“Please, Professor. Do not act carelessly. I ask that you leave this to us. Losing you so soon after losing Jeralt would be unbearable.” Her face looked sad as she looked at Byleth, but it was as if she was looking right through her. Byleth frowned, her eyebrows knitting.

“Listen, Rhea,” Claude started, before catching himself. “Erm, Lady Rhea. This move is the most strategic. The military strategy I'm devising will soon echo across Fódlan's history. I'm sure of it. Just think about it. Most of the knights are still far away, and we can't afford to have Seteth and friends abandon the monastery. So the only person who can take action now also happens to be our best commander. It's Teach, and wherever Teach leads, we'll follow. And since you've taught us that this sort of thing is always a possibility, we're already prepared for battle. We can buy the knights more time. Not for revenge, but for a defensive attack on behalf of the monastery.”

Rhea considered it a moment. “Do you agree with this strategy?” She said at last. Byleth nodded. “Fine. I will give you the order. Destroy the enemy that is hiding in the Sealed Forest… You have the protection of the goddess on your side. Whatever happens, you shall overcome.”

She exited, and Claude relaxed. “Well, we have our orders, Teach. Now all that’s left is to pull of a miracle.”

***************

The visibility in the forest was horrible. Foliage grew everywhere, and trees blocked the view. When they finally stumbled into the clearing, Byleth’s suspicions were corrected. It was a trap, specifically for her. If any of her students fell, it would be her fault for leading them here. 

Sylvain trotted his horse next to her, slipping down. “Fighting Tomas… is going to be difficult, for sure. Be… be careful.”

“I will have my revenge, whatever it takes.” Leonie’s eyes shone with angry tears. Marianne held her arm with a sympathetic and encouraging smile. Claude’s face darkened. 

“I'll admit, vengeance sounds pretty nice. But don't forget that we're here for information. Luckily, we can easily find what we're looking for while getting revenge for Jeralt. Right, Teach?” She nodded, and pulled out her Sword.

There were two Demonic Beasts, one on each side of them, each with a dark mage flanking. Byleth could see Monica at the back, a sick grin on her face. “Hello! You're here! Welcome to the forest of death! My name is Kronya. This weakling girl was just a borrowed look for me.”

She transformed, then, her bones cracking into place, as a pink haired woman appeared, with paper white skin and black markings on her face. “This is what I really look like! Now, you vermin... I'll take down every last one of you!”

Byleth’s rage coursed through her veins. She was treating this like a game, like lives weren’t at stake, like they were just dolls to play with. She struck the demonic beast, her Sword slashing through it’s armor as it whipped, ready for Hilda to strike it, dealing a good blow, but it wasn’t enough. Ignatz and Ashe both shot at it, the two of them hitting in the chinks of the armor, but they seemed unaffected, only slightly annoyed. The Beast roared, spitting fire right for the archers. Divine Pulse. Her fault. She was still responsible for them. She breathed, steeling her nerves. She couldn’t let her anger lead her to recklessness.

This time, when she went for the armor, she drew back, and had her long range fighters go after the weak spots. This Beast was stronger than others they’d fought, and they seemed to have Crest stones in the middle of their foreheads. Maybe if they went for that, they’d be powerless. “Archers, shoot for their foreheads!”

They nodded, cracking the stone, and leaving the Beast to crumble. One down, one to go. She swung at the other Beast, Sylvain riding in and away with his Lance. The archers, picking up on the plan, aimed at the stone, and the beast fell. One of the dark mages began to cast at Sylvain, but he had been practicing, and sent a Bolganone his way. He flashed a grin of pride at Byleth, and she nodded. 

Byleth went forward, a force to be reckoned with. She was smart, planning every move, every order, but also fighting with a ferocity that she hadn’t felt since before she arrived at the monastery. She felt like the Ashen Demon. Even her students seemed a little afraid of her. 

She finally reached Monica-- or Kronya, whatever her name was. She didn’t care. Kronya only looked amused. “You're a fool to be so brazen. You'll never avenge your father at this rate. I'll have to kill you too! With my own hands!” She smiled.

Byleth snarled. “I will make you pay for what you’ve done.” And she swung.

Kronya was quick on her feet, dodging. Claude couldn’t aim with how quickly the two of them were moving. He had never seen the Professor like this before. She fought with deadly accuracy, only nearly missing Kronya, and holding her energy. There were still lingering enemies, however, and he had to rip his gaze away. 

The Sword of the Creator sliced against her arm. She grunted, and sped away. Byleth followed, as fast as she could, leaving her students behind. She couldn’t let her get away. She had to bring her to justice. She’d taken her only family from her.

Kronya made a mistake. She lost her footing on the uneven ground of the ruins, and tripped. Byleth was before her, sword to her chest. “But how?” She asked, disbelief in her face. “How could I lose… to a lowly creature like you?”

Byleth raised her sword, but Tomas-- Solon, whatever, appeared behind her. Byleth stepped back, on her guard. He wielded powerful magic. She had to be wary. Suddenly she regretted jumping ahead. “Well,” he stated, simply.

“Solon! Don’t just stand there and stare, I need your help!” Kronya ordered. 

Solon smiled. “Yes, you certainly do.”

He walked behind her, and stuck his hand into her chest. Byleth gasped, stepping backwards again. The screams of Kronya echoed in her ears. “Have no fear, Kronya. Your sacrifice will help to rid of this world of the filthy vermin that have long infested it.” He cackled, dark flames rising around the three of them. Byleth held her sword defensively as they were enveloped. 

“Solon…” Kronya choked out, and Byleth would remember how she looked and sounded for the rest of her life. 

He ripped out her heart, discarding her body upon the ground. Black ichor leaked from her. “The time has finally come...to unleash the Forbidden Spell of Zahras upon our enemies!” He exclaimed. He crushed the heart into nothing, tar flowing down his arm. Kronya looked back, and Byleth could see it in her eyes. Fear. “Help,” she muttered, in utter agony.

Solon smiled. The flames grew, darkness emanating from his hand. Byleth held up her sword, holding fast against the darkness closing in on her. The shadows touched her, and she cried out. It felt like flames were burning through her skin through her fingers. She held her stance, but she wasn’t strong enough. She was burned away into darkness. The last thing she heard was Solon’s wicked voice, muttering, “Begone with you… Fell Star.”

***************

Sylvain noticed her absence too late. They had finally defeated the last of the remaining enemies, but their Professor was missing. “Shit,” he muttered, glancing at Claude. They were all tired. But they had to continue on, for her. “Shit,” he repeated, kicking at his horse, taking off into the forest. “Sylvain, wait!” Claude shouted, following after him on his wyvern. 

Sylvain was fast, disregarding his surroundings. He had to reach her. Why the hell did she go off on herself? She was strong, but these were unpredictable enemies. Sylvain didn’t want to think about what her fate might be, what he might find. 

He rode to a clearing, barely stopping his horse as he slid off. She was still there, but… they were surrounded by black flames. Claude landed next to him, Hilda along with him, a few students on their wyverns, the rest making the way on foot. Sylvain went to rush forward, but Claud laid his arm out in front of him, stopping him. 

A darkness erupted from Solon. It sped towards Byleth, and the cry of pain he heard made him gasp. She sounded like she was burning alive. And just like that, she was gone. 

“Byleth!” Sylvain screamed, and Claude held him back more. Ashe held his waist, keeping him in place with all of his might. He gasped for breath-- why couldn’t he breathe? He fell to his knees. Claude took a shaky step forward.

“What did you do to them?” He asked, his voice doing his best to hide his fear. 

“They were swallowed by the mystical darkness of the forbidden spell. An eternity wandering in a void of darkness, never to return to this world… To think we almost had the Sword of the Creator…” A sound of disappointment clicked from him.

Sylvain couldn’t say anything. She was gone. “I refuse to believe Teach would die in a place like this!” Claude snarled. “She has to be alive!”

Solon chuckled. “It is possible that death has yet to find your friend. But there are worse things than death. Drifting through the darkness with no chance to escape…Overwhelmed with hopelessness… It must be… torturous.” He paused to savor the last word. Sylvain felt sick to his stomach. 

Claude forced on a smile. “Hey, all I hear is good news. Teach is still alive. And if that's true, then there's only one thing to do. Defeat you while we wait for Teach's triumphant return!” His optimism was endless. Sylvain knew it was only hopeful thinking. She was powerful, but she was human.

Solon chuckled again. “How trite. But if you wish for pain, I shall oblige. If you prefer it so, you shall also be added to the ranks of the dead!” He raised his hand. Sylvain closed his eyes, clenching his teeth.

***************

“You’re so stupid! You’re an idiot! You absolute fool!” Sothis was seething with rage before Byleth. Byleth winced, opening an eye.

“What were you thinking, charging right into an enemy's trap? Are you just a boulder that rolls down whatever hill it's on? No, even a boulder has more sense!” She folded her arms, and Byleth bowed her head.

“I’m sorry,” she started, sighing.

“Apologizing won’t make things right! This darkness is terrifying!” She paused, pinching the bridge of her nose. Byleth took that moment to take in her surroundings.

There was a throne, the only light coming from Sothis, who was fuming. The rest was… nothing. Complete darkness. Complete emptiness. It felt cold and vast yet constricting and heated. 

“As you and I are one... I, too, am trapped within this void. But please consider this... This realm of darkness we are in is seperate from the world from which you came. I mean that it would take a god to leave this place. In time, our hearts and minds will cease to be. Are you prepared to die?”

Byleth frowned. She thought of her students, eager to learn and trusting in her. She thought of Jeralt, his smile and belief in her. She thought of Rhea, her watchful eye and care. She thought of Sylvain. She’d never see that smirk again, never hear his eye roll inducing flirts. “I’m not,” she finally choked out. 

“I thought as much. I also do not wish to die, but… there is no other choice.” She looked sadly at Byleth.

“What choice?” Byleth asked.

“Do you recall your father's diary? He said you were a child who never cried nor laughed. I think I am the one to blame. I must have been asleep, but even then, I feel I was a part of you. I do not know how Rhea managed it, but she allowed me to exist inside of you. The truth is I have always been with you. It is within you that I found my power yet again. The power of a goddess. The power of the progenitor god.” 

It made sense, with all the puzzle pieces fitting. But it also was hard to believe. The revered goddess… had been Sothis the entire time? Sothis, who joked with her. Sothis who teased her at her first kiss. Sothis, who… saved her, that fateful day. 

“My name is Sothis. By now you must be well aware of what that means. I am the one who watches over Fodlan and the creatures dwelling there. I am Sothis, she who died then returned.” 

“Somehow, I know it to be true,” Byleth muttered. 

“There is only one thing left to do to save us from this darkness of eternity. I must now use the power of a god. However, I lack a body of my own. And so, I must relinquish all the power that I have...to you. The time has come for you and I to join as one. And when that comes to pass...then I shall disappear.” She frowned with sadness.

“No! I won’t allow it,” Byleth sputtered. She had begun to think of Sothis as a friend. A comrade. She’d had her with her her entire life, and though she was only able to speak to her recently, she couldn’t imagine life without her. For her to cease to exist… seemed cruel. 

Sothis gave a sad smile. “When I say disappear, I do not mean that all I am will be no more. My soul will join with yours, and you and I will never be apart. But...I will no longer have a chance to speak with you. I shall miss it. So long have I been on this path with you. Through you, I got to see and hear this world. I even got to chastise you from time to time. I may not have acted like a goddess, but...it was certainly fun. For all that you have done... Thank you. I'm glad that it was you to whom my fate was bound.”

A tear fell from Byleth’s face. “Thank you… For everything.”

“Now... We must pray. For if we share this wish, our spirits two will join as one... Your wish...is to return to the forest, stop the enemy, and rescue the little ones. No need for words. I know your heart as though it were my own… Your will, and mine, are now as one. Both sides of time are revealed to you… and you alone.” Byleth stood in front of her, as she approached. “You know I am the beginning… what will you do?” 

“I will be their end.” She held up her hand, to grasp Sothis’. The throne behind Sothis erupted into golden light, dancing around them in a circle. As their hands touched, Sothis began to dissolve into her, in brilliant golden light. She passed, at last, through her face. Byleth closed her eyes as she felt Sothis enter her, become her, empower her. It felt like lightning coursing through her, but not unpleasant. No, it felt powerful. She felt whole.

When her eyes opened, she saw, with brilliant clarity, all around her. There was a veil of darkness, but something had to lay beyond. Her hair whipped around her as she raised her Sword, now feeling only as a part of her, an extension of her own body, and swung down, tearing through. She clawed her way out. She knew what to do. And so, she did. 

***************

Dark magic swirled in Solon’s palm. Sylvain clenched his eyes shut. A brilliant sound, like a ringing, cut through the air. He opened, bringing up his hand to shield from the light that was coming from Solon. It was too bright. He thought he could see a sword. Was this how he was going to die?

A ripping sound. Solon, with an almost awe, spoke. “So, the Fell Star consumes even the darkness itself.”

A yell. The sound of feet hitting the stone. The light was still bright, but lessened. Standing upright, her hair flowing around her, glowing, was the Professor, an intense look of resolution upon her face.

“Teach... You are Teach, right? I always believed in you... I knew you could cut your way out of anything,” Claude muttered, in awe. 

Her very essence seemed to glow. Her blue hair glowed mint green, her eyes shining like glowing pieces of jade in the sunset. Sylvain had never quite seen anyone so beautiful. She looked like the Goddess herself. 

“What did you see in the darkness of Zahras?” Solon demanded, unhinged. “This should be impossible. The only being that can withstand that darkness is... Unless I dispose of you myself, I may never have the chance to send you back there!” He raised his hand at her. She cut through his spell with her sword like it was nothing.

With a stab of her sword, Solon was defeated. No more. Not even he could withstand the power of the Sword of the Creator. She looked to be the Creator herself.

She muttered something none of them could hear, as she pulled back the Sword, leading Solon to fall limp. “This is not the end… Thales will carry out our mission, somehow--” She stepped on his wound, silencing him. He spat black blood on her boot as he died. 

Sylvain got up slowly. He began to walk, cautiously at first, before running towards her. The glow had begun to fade, and she looked at him with confusion as he hugged her as tightly as he could. 

“I thought you were gone. I thought you had…” he muttered, his voice breaking. She was stiff at the sudden action, but melted into it. She curled her fingers in his hair, and sighed. Claude chuckled from behind them. 

“Move out, team! I’ll go talk with the Professor,” Claude ordered. The rest of the Golden Deer began to head back the way they came from, in the forest, many casting glances on the new being that took the place of their professor.

Sylvain released her, stepping back. A blush crept up at the knowing look Claude gave him. He kept his face flat. “Teach! We won! I'll be honest—when I lost sight of you, I broke into a cold sweat. But Jeralt's killer is dead. All's well that ends well.” Claude yelled as he approached, a smirk on his face.

“Yes,” she nodded, turning to move.

“You're kidding, right? I understood putting it off while we were in battle, but now that it's over, just go ahead and spit it out. That hair. Those eyes. That unfathomable power. What happened out there?” Claude rubbed his head.

“I…” She glanced at Sylvain. “I’ll tell you both.”

She began telling a story, about a child born who never cried and never showed much emotion, and was born without a heartbeat. The child grew up motherless, the only family being their mercenary father. The child was raised to fight as a mercenary, and kept from the Church, only knowing of the battlefield, and her work. The child, when older, still didn’t show much emotion, and her lack of emotion on the battlefield earned her the nickname of the Ashen Demon. The child would have dreams of a war long since past, and of a slumbering young girl in a throne. It remained that way for years, until one day, the girl began to speak to her. And when she was about to face certain death, the girl drew back the hands of time for her. The young girl was then forever with the child, speaking to them at all times, helping them. Then she learned of the monastery, of the Goddess and her true name, of Crests and Crest Stones, until one day, they were trapped. The girl revealed, then, that she was the goddess, and to free them, had to relinquish her power to the child, merging together as one. 

The child from the story was Byleth. 

“You mean to tell me…that an entity who claims to be the goddess was living inside your mind? And it's been that way since you were a baby? And this goddess entrusted all of her goddess-like power to you and then vanished…” Claude had disbelief in his voice. But what other explanation for her change in appearance was there? “It's a difficult story to swallow, Teach. But the way you look now… I guess I've got no choice but to believe it. How could something like that happen? There must be a clue in Jeralt's diary. If you believe the diary, there's a high possibility that Rhea did something to you when you were born. That's likely when all this began. What in the world happened to you as a baby? And what was Rhea after?”

“I don’t know,” she admitted. She grabbed her head, swaying. Sylvain caught her as she fell, shielding her from the fall.

“Teach! Is she… asleep?” Sylvain nodded. “This must be an effect of the goddess’ power. I wonder if Teach’s body can handle the strain…”

Sylvain looked worriedly at her. “We’ve got to carry her back.”

Claude sighed. “I know you’re right, but… maybe Hilda can help? I feel like Teach may have some reservations about it being, well, us.”

They both sighed, carrying the professor back towards the rest of their class.

****************

There was singing. A familiar song. The same one she’d heard the night of the ball.  _ In time’s glow… see the glow of flames ever burning bright… on the swift river’s drift… broken memories alight… _

Byleth opened her eyes to see Rhea there, singing. She smiled at Byleth. “... How lovely...it would be for this moment to last forever... I wish I could hold on to this time we have stolen... that you and I could create a world without end... I have heard whispers of what happened to you. Your appearance... You have received power from the goddess. From the moment you took hold of the Sword of the Creator... I prayed that one day the radiant power of Sothis, which bathes Fódlan in its celestial light, might reside within you. But you are so much more than the light. You are my... Close your eyes, dear one. Sleep, just a while longer.”

Byleth was in no position to protest. She was so tired. Rhea continued to hum. “I will be watching over you, always,” she uttered. “Always and forever.”

Byleth fell back to sleep once more. 


	9. The Power of Betrayal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> During the Pegasus Moon, the Golden Deer house takes a visit to the Holy Tomb. But something else awaits them there...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello all! I apologize deeply for the long wait between the last chapter and this one! I went on a slight vacation for a few days in mid July, and then last week I had a funeral for my father, so I've understandably been a bit busy. But! That does not mean I have forgotten about this fic! So, after the almost entire month long hiatus, it has returned, and I'm hoping to have the same sort of constant uploads I had before, as I want to finish this fic before the year ends. However, coming end of August, I'll likely only be able to upload monthly, as my college classes begin again, and my first semester schedule is quite full (I only have one day off a week.) Thank you for understanding, and onto explanations of this chapter!
> 
> So, first things first, I used some theories that people have, such as Edelgard's weapon NOT being a Holy Relic, instead created by TWSITD during the war, or even after. It activates like one, but isn't made like those of the bones of the Nabateans. Proof of this theory is that Aymr is repaired with Agarthum instead of Umbral Steel like all of the other Holy Relics, and Agarth is where TWSITD are originally from, so it makes sense for it.
> 
> Secondly, I have slightly deviated from the script in some parts because honestly Byleth's answer to "The Empire has declared war" seemed super stupid, and also I may have SLIGHT deviations from cannon this point forward, but don't worry, overall things should end the same, though there might be added elements to flesh out characters more, especially those not from the Golden Deer house originally. In the next couple of chapters things are going to be COMPLETELY different from the game, as the game doesn't show what happened in those five years, and I actually want to delve into it. So, starting chapter 11 or 12, there will be deviations from the game's canon (since we don't see those five years!) and just fleshing out the world, because in NO WAY do I believe everyone just stood still all those years Byleth was gone. As such, these chapters in the time Byleth is absent will, of course, be absent of Byleth, instead using perspectives from different students through the years. If anyone has a particularly favorite character you'd want me to write about in those 5 years, let me know, and they may end up in the chapters!
> 
> Now, thank you for reading and keeping up with Crests and Courting!

Chapter 9: The Power of Betrayal

Byleth sat in her room. She couldn’t hear Sothis anymore. She missed the teasing voice, the laughter, and even the criticizing. She missed  _ her. _ And now she was truly alone.

She had lost everything that she had before the monastery because of her enemies. Now all that was left was to pick up the pieces.

Byleth hadn’t completely understood what Claude was talking about in the Sealed Forest until she was back in her quarters. She gasped at the sight. Her hair was mint green, her eyes like jade. She looked like a different person. But then again, she was. This was all she had left of Sothis. In escaping the darkness, she had merged into something new.

Rhea was incredibly interested, giving her the mission to go to the Holy Tomb to hear the word of the Goddess. Byleth had omitted the fact that she heard Sothis before the transformation, and seeing Rhea’s hungry gaze, was glad to have done so. It made her uncomfortable, the way Rhea looked at her, like some salvation become flesh.

Even worse, her students regarded her warily. Claude had even seemed more distant than usual, regarding her with calculating eyes, drawing conclusions that she wasn’t sure she favored. Dimitri was on edge, much to her former Blue Lions students’ dismay, and Edelgard was absent from the monastery upon her return. The air around the monastery was swirling with confusion and suspicion.

Despite all of the things that had changed, some things remained the same. She still felt the hole inside of her where her grief for Jeralt rested. Vengeance hadn’t quenched it, instead dulling it. She was still at the center of the mumblings of the residents of Garreg Mach, and was still given a wide berth because of it. And she still kicked herself for the way her skin felt aflame whenever she saw Sylvain.

She sighed, gazing out of her window, setting down her pen beside her journal. It was cold, yet she barely felt it. Probably another side-effect of her current disposition. Night had begun to fall, but the sliver of light that remained glinted as snow began to descend upon the ground. She had barely noticed the time that had passed as she wrote her thoughts. 

The Sword of the Creator sat near her bed frame, itching to be held, to be swung. Byleth felt wary. The Sword had changed when she merged with Sothis. The power she felt when she held it was like no other. Like she could cut the very heavens themselves. It frightened her, a little. And yet… if the gut feeling within her was correct, then a war was coming. And that power could be what she needed to protect her students. 

***************

Sylvain had been trying to work up the nerve to talk to the Professor all week, but if she was intimidating before, she was downright terrifying now. She had literally cut through dimensions and fused with the Goddess, who she apparently had with her the entire time. 

He especially didn’t know how to talk to her when he had nearly broken completely at the thought that she was gone. He didn’t like how vulnerable he had felt at that thought. None of his past flings or interests had ever made him quite as malleable as Byleth had made him feel that moment.

What the hell had happened to him? He was Sylvain, the skirt-chaser, the guy who had a different girl on his arm every week. The guy who chased women and didn’t let himself feel because no one was ever going to truly feel that way for him. Sylvain who was going to marry some noble woman he held no love for, in the hopes of breeding a Crest-bearer. Sylvain who was only worth what he could give to others.

He groaned, flopping onto his bed. Everything was so complicated, especially the fact that he didn’t miss the simplicity of his dating days from before, despite how much easier it was. 

Growing up, whenever Dimitri had his fits of moroseness, Ingrid would recommend to him to write letters with all of his feelings, addressed to the target of his dismay. Then, he would lock the letter away, never sending it. It seemed to work for him. And if it worked for blondie, why wouldn’t it do even better for Sylvain?

He sighed, and pulled out a piece of parchment, as well as a quill. How do you even start a letter like this? It isn’t like it’s official. Maybe a “to whom it may concern”? No, too formal still. Dear? No, it felt wrong still. Maybe… To the one I cannot forget. Yes, that seemed right. To the one I cannot forget. 

Once he began to actually write the letter, he realized how easy it was. He just let his thoughts go onto the page. He wrote about how he felt changed around her, how he wanted to be a better man because of her, how she infuriated him at how tough she was on her students. How she was so strong it encouraged him to be stronger. How when he disappointed her, he felt disappointed himself. How he couldn’t remember what it was like before they met, and how he almost shattered at the thought that she had disappeared forever. The more he wrote, the more he began to realize… this wasn’t just a letter about his frustrations. It was a love letter. Oh no.

With wide eyes, he read what he wrote. That couldn’t be right, could it? He just admired her! Sylvain Gautier didn’t fall in love with people, no way. But there it was, his unfiltered feelings upon the page, and it was screaming at him that he was. 

Of all the people, of all the times… he had to fall for his teacher, the literal vessel of the Goddess, in the middle of a brewing war. Just one more weakness of his on the battlefield. 

He crumbled the letter, jamming it in his desk beneath all his meticulously organized notes. He couldn’t bring himself to destroy it, but… no one would suspect that kind of thing in his drawers. He was usually the one to receive, anyhow. 

No matter his own feelings, it didn’t matter. He had to squash them down.

***************

She was doing her one-to-one training with students, as usual. This time, it was Sylvain. He seemed distracted, but then, when was he not? He at least usually was eager to spar, putting his all. It was troubling that he had been easily defeated today.

They took a break, and leaned against the wall as she drank from her waterskin. Sylvain watched her, and she gave him a quizzical look, one eyebrow raising.

“That color,” Sylvain began to explain. “I swear, it’s like you’re an entirely different person.”

She sheepishly pulled on a strand of hair, the lightness of it still odd to her in comparison to her old dark locks. “Isn’t it weird?”

“No, no it’s not weird at all!” he blurted, a blush creeping up his cheeks. He cleared his throat, looking away. “It’s… well, somehow you’re even more beautiful than before.”

She frowned, but only slightly, as a blush began to bloom on her own face. “Sylvain…” she started.

He smiled, putting his hands up in defense. “Hey, I’m joking, I’m joking! Don’t get mad…” They laughed, and got back to their training, but the words replayed in Byleth’s head.

*****************

The month, almost as quickly as it had begun, had ended. Not much had happened, other than Edelgard and Hubert’s absence from the monastery, as well as rumors from some of the transfers to her class from the Black Eagle house. Aside from that, however, the month had been quiet, filled with the typical lessons the Golden Deer had become accustomed to. Though their mission this month was supposed to be quiet, they knew that it was unlikely to remain so, judging by their past ones. The fact that the archbishop was to be accompanying them only set Byleth more on edge. 

They met in the cathedral, before they were to set off to the Holy Tomb, to go over the plan. Byleth couldn’t help but feel as blind and confused as her students were. 

“So, you’re going to receive the Goddess’ revelation at the Holy Tomb? That’s news to me. I did not see that coming,” Claude started the conversation.

“Lady Rhea’s going too, right?” Hilda asked. “I hear it will be well-guarded but… is that really okay?”

“If Solon’s allies are still around, it’s certainly true that we don’t know when or where they might appear.” Ignatz chewed his finger. 

“I don’t know what type of place this Holy Tomb is, but… we should be cautious.” Leonie had a faraway look in her eye. 

“If something happens, we’ll have to take matters into our own hands.” Raphael remarked. 

“What do you think, Professor? Is it really okay for Lady Rhea to attend?” Hilda wondered, and all eyes fell on you.

They all looked worried, even Claude a little bit. But Rhea was no pushover. They’d done excursions with her, and she was a force to be reckoned with. Even if they were attacked, Rhea would be able to hold her own. “It’s encouraging,” Byleth decided, ignoring the gnawing feeling in her stomach.

Claude laughed. “Leave it to our fearless leader to shrewdly factor in Rhea's fighting ability. You're bold, Teach. I love it.” Another chuckle. “Well, the truth is, we won’t know what’s going on until it happens. All we can do is stay on our guard and play it by ear.”

“That's quite enough babbling, Claude. There is nobody more unfit for a holy ceremony than you,” Lorenz joked, causing a few to snicker.

Marianne’s face was on the floor in penance as she muttered, “Um, divine punishment won't strike us for setting foot in the Holy Tomb, right?” 

Lysithea scoffed. “Good grief, Marianne! Why are you always so negative?” A pause, as she noticed Flayn at the back of the group, thinking. “Flayn? Is something on your mind?”

Flayn jumped from her pensive stance, and gave a soft smile of reassurance. “Oh, it’s nothing! May we all see this through to the end.”

“It still doesn't make sense to me. A goddess was living inside Teach, right? But now there's a ceremony to receive a revelation or whatever. How could that be necessary anymore? There must be another objective.” Claude sighed. “It's pointless to speculate about it now. We'll know the answer soon enough. There isn't any danger for us students, but… be careful, Teach.”

She nodded, letting his thoughts echo in her mind as they descended to the Holy Tomb.

**************

The tomb was settled within a deep cavern, blues and greens filtering across the old stones. Several different graves were settled around the tomb, and at the back, a brilliant throne that Byleth recognized with a start. Sothis’ throne.

“Are you surprised, Professor?” Rhea asked, interrupting her thoughts. “This is the Holy Tomb.”

Claude mentioned something about the mechanism, but Byleth wasn’t exactly paying attention. She felt drawn to the throne, taking a step forward. 

“This is where the Goddess who created this world was laid to rest, along with her children.” A wistfulness entered her voice. “It is said that our creator, the goddess Sothis, sat upon this very throne. Professor, do you recognized this throne?”

“I do,” Byleth breathed in response. It felt odd being here in person, not within dreams, and not with Sothis sitting upon it. 

“So long…” Rhea muttered. “So long have I waited for this day. Sit upon the throne. I have no doubt you will be gifted a revelation by the goddess.” She smiled, and Byleth stepped forward, feeling the call. She didn’t want to sit on it, but everyone was expecting her too, and perhaps Sothis could return if she did. She missed her longest friend. But it still felt a bit wrong, to be sitting in her place. She lowered herself, not sure what to expect. Everything was silent. Nothing different. She opened her eyes, looking at Rhea, as the smile slowly fell from the archbishop’s face. 

“It was supposed to be but a step away… what could possibly be missing?” Rhea muttered, distress in her voice. Byleth stepped from the throne, as Claude approached, concern on his face. 

“Sorry to disturb you when you're distressed, Archbishop, but it seems some uninvited guests have arrived.”

Byleth followed his gaze to the entrance of the tomb, and her blood froze. The Flame Emperor stood before her, with a man with cropped short brown hair beside them and Adrestian Empire soldiers filing within.

The brown haired man laughed. “Don't move, any of you. If you move, your lives will be forfeit. Thank you ever so much for guiding us this far. The Imperial army will now take possession of everything in the Holy Tomb.” He snickered, withdrawing his sword. 

They wanted inside the tomb. They just didn’t know how. And they had led them there, and now everything in the tomb that had been kept guarded all these years, was about to be pillaged. All their fault. 

“There's only one goal for grave robbers like these, right, Flame Emperor? You're here to steal the treasure that rests within the Holy Tomb,” Claude yelled to the apparent leader. 

“For a fool, you catch on quickly. Those Crest Stones will be ours. That infernal power, which is masquerading as a medicine but is truly a poison, will plague this world no longer.” The Flame Emperor raised their arm. “Take away the Crest Stones, all of them!” 

Within an instant, the fight began. Demonic Beasts erupted from the ground, while soldiers ran to the tombs, cracking them open to free the precious stones. There were so many of them, and Byleth was overwhelmed. But she knew she had to protect the Crest Stones. She couldn’t allow her enemies to have the twisted power they held. 

Her students seemed to have caught onto her plan as well. They flanked the sides, attempting to cut off escape routes and wrestle free their grips from the stones. Byleth withdrew the Sword of the Creator, as it clashed with the sword of the brown haired man. 

“I’m told it’s fine to kill those who resist. Now then, how shall I cook you?” He grinned sickly, licking his lips, as he withdrew and went to strike. 

Byleth was ready, though. Her sword whipped around, glowing with power, and decimating his weapon, slicing through his armor with ease. He fell to the ground. Byleth held the tip at his throat. “Wait… no! I was just following orders!” He gurgled on his last word, Byleth stabbing at his throat. 

A Demonic Beast had noticed the uproar, and turned to her. She wrenched her sword free, just in time to see a glowing lance pierce through its hide. Sylvain trotted up, wrenching his weapon free and casting Saggitae, arrows of light slicing the beast. Byleth let her sword fly, ending the beast’s life. He grinned at her, and she smiled back. True teamwork. 

Claude flew on his wyvern, with Hilda close behind, at the second Demonic Beast. Hilda sliced with her Relic, a wickedly strong axe named Freikugel, as Claude let loose arrows at the wounds, further damaging the beast. They made quick work of it, together, the second beast easily falling. They high fived at the end of their battle, sweat beading both of their foreheads. 

The other students had managed to route much of the thieves, though a few slipped through the cracks. Byleth and Sylvain ran on each side, casting to attempt to stop them. Only one made it past with a stone, the others falling, and they were left to retrieve the stones upon their corpses. 

At last, she was face to face with the Flame Emperor. The believed mastermind behind it all. Byleth had met them only once before, after the battle in Remire village, where they offered an alliance. After all that they had just witnessed, Byleth couldn’t imagine allying with someone who allowed such horrors to occur. Now, as she stared down the foe, she couldn’t help but feel sad that it had to end this way. The foe seemed to mirror her thoughts. “You were the one person I did not wish to make an enemy of…” they remarked sadly. And then, they clashed.

The Flame Emperor wielded an axe, just the same as Byleth’s Sword of the Creator, which glowed brilliantly in her grasp. The axe, however, had a darkness surrounding it beneath the false glow. When it sliced skin, it felt different, cold instead of molten, like shards of ice halting her very being. While the Sword of the Creator was warm and bright, this axe, this mock weapon designed after the relics, was freezing and illuminating with dark light. A Crest stone was embedded within it, but Byleth couldn’t really see. 

A clatter, as the Flame Emperor turned their gaze away from Byleth, in an attempt to cover their face, as their mask clattered to the ground at Byleth’s feet. A flash of white hair. Gasps heard from her students. She looked into her opponent’s eyes as they rose again, and with horror, Byleth understood. 

Edelgard was the Flame Emperor. “So the end has come…” Edelgard trailed off, flipping her hair back. 

“Is this some kind of sick joke?” Claude sputtered, his grip on his bow shaking slightly. “The Flame Emperor… Edelgard?!”

“You have disappointed me, Edelgard. To think that a descendant of House Hresvelg would dare betray the holy church…” The anger of a God quivered within Rhea’s voice. “Professor, kill Edelgard at once. She is a danger to all of Fódlan. Such a rebellious heart cannot be allowed to keep beating.”

Byleth hesitated. This was Edelgard, who she had saved at the very beginning. Who had started all of this. Who had caused her to come to the monastery in the first place. Who was just a child, barely eighteen. Edelgard, her student. 

“I have achieved my objective. I will retreat. Farewell, Professor. If we meet again, it will be on the battlefield.” She looked sadly back, as Hubert teleported her away. 

This was it. This was true war. And the enemy was someone they knew. Her transfer students from the Black Eagles looked utterly torn, as her other students turned on them as traitors. Petra looked especially conflicted. She had come to Fodlan in the hopes of making peace with the Empire. But if it meant war with the other nations…

There was a time for this. They needed to rest. Rhea had stormed back to the entrance of the cave, waiting for them to follow. Claude and Byleth hung back. 

“I'm not exactly on friendly terms with the princess, but I do have a few questions for her. Edelgard said that the Crest Stones represent power. That means she knows how to use them. She almost certainly knows other secrets of Fódlan as well... Once things calm down a bit, there's a lot more that Rhea needs to tell us.” Byleth nodded. “I just hope there's still time. I have this strange feeling... that history is being written. That an age of anarchy is upon us. Let's hope I'm mistaken.”

And on that note, they exited the tomb, to emerge from the underground, and to prepare for war.

****************

It was war. For certain. Edelgard was gathering troops to march upon the monastery. She had denounced the church, denounced their extravagance, and was prepared to kill any that stood in her way. And many did, proven by those who remained in the monastery, as well as those who had just begun to arrive to help in this Holy war. 

Seteth was staring from the window as Byleth approached him. “I cannot believe it... Let us recount the situation as it stands, Professor. After you returned from the Holy Tomb... the Adrestian Empire declared war upon the Church of Seiros, as well as our allies.” 

“I figured as much,” Byleth responded. “There’s no turning back, after what happened.”

Seteth nodded. “Edelgard demanded her own father relinquish the throne, and then assumed the position of emperor. She has deemed the Church of Sieros to be an evil of this world, and is calling upon the people of Fódlan to help her tear it down. I must discuss our response to this declaration with the archbishop after the knights return from their investigation. Until then, watch over the students. See that they remain calm.”

She nodded, exiting the audience chamber. 

Everything had changed. A thick air had come to smother Garreg Mach, the teasing mood of school replaced by the looming threat of war. Dimitri had become undone, upon hearing of Edelgard’s betrayal, and had a new look in his eyes, a hungry one. Whenever Byleth saw him, he was muttering under his breath the things he wanted to do to Edelgard in repayment. 

The Black Eagles students who remained looked fearful. If war with the Empire was imminent, that meant fighting their own families. Caspar and Bernadetta, especially, looked perturbed at the thought of facing their fathers on the battlefield. Several of the Blue Lions students stuck together, murmuring to each other about Dimitri’s change, while the Golden Deer students worried for their homes and families being caught in the crossfire. 

And Byleth’s fear that she’d had since beginning teaching was easily becoming a reality. Some of them would die.

****************

Sylvain, Felix, Ingrid, and Ashe met up together in the Blue Lions classroom that night. They spoke in hushed voices, concern in their faces, and worry for the impending future. 

Felix was the first to speak up at their clandestine meeting. 

“So... He's finally shown his true face. The same Dimitri I've seen once before–a beast who loves spilling blood.”

They were all quiet for a while. Ingrid looked to be about to cry, Sylvain clenching his fists so hard the knuckles had become stark white. Ashe was chipping at the wooden table they sat at, a tempest of emotions lurking beneath his face. Felix had his hands folded before him, but he was rigid with worry and fear. 

“You’re wrong!” Ingrid finally piped up, hot tears finally spilling. “I’m sure of it. There has to be an explanation…” She wiped at her cheeks as her voice wavered.

“I knew he'd been carrying the burden of that tragedy. I understand his thirst for revenge. His family and closest friends...all massacred right in front of him.” Sylvain’s voice was unusually soft, mellow, unwavering, but he refused to look in anyone’s eyes. “But...it still doesn't add up. There must be more that we don't know.”

“That's true. Dimitri didn't come unhinged until after the Flame Emperor was unmasked…” Ingrid replied, hope in her voice. 

“You don't think...there's some connection between those two...do you?” Ashe asked, his brows knitting in thought. 

Of course there was more than just rivals between the two. But what it was, there was no way for them to know. But Sylvain knew his childhood friend was close to breaking. And he wasn’t sure he wanted to be there for the aftermath of the shattering.

War was coming. Everything was about to change. 


	10. Cruel as War

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Imperial Army has at last approached the monastery. Will they prevail?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally, some good fucking food for you all. It's been like, 50k words and the main ship of this fic still hasn't kissed for real, but fear not! You didn't REALLY think I was going to have Byleth "die" without anything good happening, right?
> 
> Anywho, I honestly could not find anywhere if Sylvain had named his horse. I know Marianne did, with her steed named Dorte, but I couldn't find if Sylvain had. If he has, I'm sorry, maybe I'll go back and replace the name, but for now, his horse's name is now Marquis because it works. 
> 
> Are you all ready for an angsty, Byleth-less five years for the next few chapters? For literally everyone involved.

Chapter 10: Cruel as War

The year was coming to an end, and with it, the life Byleth had tried to accustom herself to. Garreg Mach was completely changed. When she had first arrived, it seemed like a beacon of peace, gorgeous and full of hope, raising its students to be capable leaders with good morals. There was laughter, joking. Excitement at something new on the menu for the week. Showing each other up during training. Feeling… well, like kids.

Since then, they had each taken their first lives. They had faced true battle, and experienced death first hand. They had been hurt, and in some cases, killed, though not before being stitched back together as time turned back. They had been betrayed by their own friend and classmate. They were now facing war as soldiers, rather than students. They would face some of their own families on the battlefield dying for a cause they didn’t fully understand. They weren’t those fresh faced students anymore. 

And just as the students had metamorphosed, Byleth had as well.

She was thinking this as she approached the audience chamber to speak to the archbishop. Despite the coming war and battle, despite the shocking betrayal from Edelgard, something was bothering her. When she sat on that throne, the archbishop had been expecting something to happen. But something went wrong. What? Jeralt had mentioned in his diary that he suspected Rhea had done something to her, and that’s why he faked her death. But… what? It had to have something to do with Sothis. She wished she could talk to her about it.

Upon arrival, Rhea was already raving to Seteth.

“Unforgivable! I cannot believe that the Adrestian Empire would embark on such a violent course of action!” her eyebrows, normally serene, were pulled tight in a scowl.

“The fault is my own,” Seteth bowed. “I failed to see the wickedness within Edelgard’s heart.”

“Is she wicked?” Byleth felt odd hearing one of her pupils discussed in such a way. She had fought her own classmates, but it was reluctantly. There was a sadness behind her words in the tomb. 

“She plotted with ill-meaning strangers to achieve her own ambitions and defiled the Holy Tomb!” Seteth exclaimed, turning to her like she was insane. “If that is not wicked, what is? Or perhaps her ambitions are even greater than we know. Perhaps she is planning to make herself a false deity by demonizing the Church of Seiros…”

Rhea laid a hand on Seteth’s arm to calm him, her resolve strong. “Adrestia received its very name through a divine oracle. To injure the goddess is a sin most foul that shall not be forgiven nor forgotten. We must stop the Empire...and quickly.”

They were interrupted by Shamir rushing in, taking a knee in respect to the Archbishop. “I have returned, Rhea,” she breathed. She had clearly rushed here as quickly as she could.

“Welcome back, Shamir,” Rhea said, extending her hand to help Shamir up to a standing position. “Were you able to discern the Empire’s movements?”

“Their main troops are marching towards Garreg Mach. It is said that they will join forces with Edelgard's army and arrive within two weeks.”

To Garreg Mach? In only two weeks? Didn’t Edelgard know there were children here? Innocents? Not to mention all of those outside of the monastery, in the villages below? Was she truly willing to kill all of those people for the sake of her ideals? It seemed like a nightmare, like something had replaced the Edelgard Byleth knew with some twisted version. 

Rhea relayed her sentiments. “Two weeks? That is not enough time! It will require all of our efforts just to prepare our defenses before then. We must send notice to all surrounding villages at once. We must order the residents of Garreg Mach to flee for their lives.”

At least Rhea was thinking of those who couldn’t defend themselves. “It will be done,” Shamir responded, bowing her head, and exiting swiftly.

Rhea sighed, sitting on her throne, rubbing her forehead as exhaustion hit her. “… Professor… listen closely. If our enemy invades the monastery, I will have no choice but to stand upon the battlefield. If something happens to me...I am entrusting my sacred duties to you.”

Byleth widened her eyes. Her? “Why me?” was all that escaped her mouth.

“You must have guessed it by now. The truth of who you are. Or perhaps I should say, your lost memories are surely beginning to return. I have acted all these long years as a mere proxy for you. But the duty is yours and yours alone. Only you can lead the people of Fódlan.”

Lost memories? She still didn’t remember anything. It reminded her of what Sothis said to her, before merging. That her memories had flooded back. Was Rhea expecting her to become the Goddess? The Goddess was gone, and only she remained, and she was the least qualified of everyone to lead a church for a religion she barely knew about. All she could do was nod, dumbfounded, and exit, leaving much to think about. Rhea watched her leave, thoughts swirling in her head.

Seteth spoke up. “Rhea, please. You have to tell me all that you know. I beg of you.”

Rhea didn’t respond, lost in thought as she watched the Professor leave.

“That one… is the Progenitor God. Am I correct?” 

“...In a sense. Our dear professor is…a vessel. One who carries the power of the progenitor god within. In time, the vessel will become one with the power contained within, and the progenitor god shall return to this world.”

“... I see. I trust that you are aware of the questionable nature of this experiment? But I suppose there is no turning back…” Seteth had concern on his face. 

Rhea knew what he was thinking. Byleth had been used as nothing more than a vessel for the Goddess. She would cease to exist, in time, for a greater purpose. She had come to care for the woman, despite her best attempts not to. But, as Seteth had voiced, it was too late to turn back. And, at last, her mother would return. “I ask that you help our friend…and in doing so, help Her. I am waiting and hoping for the moment when our creator rules this wayward land once more.”

Seteth swallowed thickly. “I… I understand. As ever, I will take you at your word.” 

****************

Claude had been listening in through the doors, as he was prone to do. The knowledge he had just received, however, was nearly debilitating. The Professor was the Progenitor God. The Professor was merely a vessel for the Goddess to return. And, based on Rhea’s response, when that happened… the Professor would cease to exist. 

He respected the Professor, had even come to think of her as a confidante, a friend. For a while there, he had even felt something more… until Jeralt had died. But all the same, he couldn’t imagine her just disappearing, becoming a shell. Having some otherworldly being wear her as an outfit. 

It made sense, no matter how much he wished it hadn’t. Ever since reading through Jeralt’s diary, he knew Rhea had done something to her as a child, just never knew  _ what.  _ But now, it all made sense. Rhea had used her as a vessel to bring back the Goddess. That was why she held the Crest of Flames, why she could wield the Sword of the Creator, why it glowed in her hands more than it ever had before. Why she was able to break free of the darkness, and why her appearance had changed. Byleth was the Goddess, or at least would become her. 

He knew he couldn’t say anything, though. Not to anyone. But… he had to find a way to prevent it. For her sake. 

Was he truly fighting on the right side if this was what the Church intended?   
  


***************

The monastery was in intense preparation. Everyone was solemn, some were angry, and many were afraid. No one knew what to expect, but they all knew one truth: war was coming, and there was no avoiding it. 

Claude, as usual, tried to keep in high spirits, but even he was visibly dimmer by the impending fight. Edelgard had been one step ahead at every step, every move calculated. She knew when everyone would be on the most lax alert, and knew what they would react the most to. She had played them all, and now, she had almost won. 

Something that slightly surprised Byleth, however, was that Edelgard had made enemies with the nobles in every nation. She supposed it made sense, as most nobles owed their nobility to their Crests, which in turn were tied to the Church. Still, to be fighting without the support of a majority of allies that could bankroll the fight… she had to have some other group working with her. But who? It couldn’t just be those she had rallied under the name of the Flame Emperor.

While Ferdinand’s father had been stripped of all titles, and Bernadetta’s under house arrest, Linhardt and Caspar’s were different. The boys would have to face their fathers on the battlefield, likely denounced as traitors to their country in fighting with Byleth against Edelgard. Dorothea worried about who would win. Petra had been asked to join Edelgard’s side, yet she had remained loyal to the monastery. 

The Blue Lions recruited were a similar story. Ashe and Anette worried about the fight, but assured her of their resolve all the same. Felix relayed that though it was regrettable to be fighting Edelgard, she couldn’t be treated with the same compassion they had of her before her betrayal. Ingrid wondered how Edelgard had remained so composed while hiding her true intentions. Mercedes prayed to the Goddess to keep all of those she cared about safe, with a sad look in her eye.

The Golden Deer had each sworn their loyalty, strong as it was the first day she began to teach. Lorenz’s words were of course full of belief in his abilities, as Raphael promised to lend his strength to the fight. Ignatz, usually so soft spoken, had sworn with a resolve she hadn’t realized he had to protect the monastery. Lysithea spoke with calculation. Marianne had approached the Professor with fear, but after encouragement, promised to give everything she had. Hilda didn’t like Edelgard in the first place, and wouldn’t bend a knee for Dimitri either, so she had recounted her loyalty for Claude. And Leonie had forced Byleth to promise not to die on the battlefield, lest she disappoint Jeralt’s spirit. 

Manuela and Hanneman had both been getting closer these past months, ever since the night of Jeralt’s death. When checking on them in preparation, Hanneman remarked about the power of Crest stones and how they could be weaponized, only stopping as Manuela gave a slight whack with her fan. She assured the Professor that they would both be ready, while also wondering about her old opera company. However, when Byleth left, she could overhear them bickering again, though it was filled with more care than disdain as it had before.

Gilbert prepared while watching Anette from afar, still too afraid to strike up conversation, until one day Byleth ended up “accidentally” sending him to sharpen some of the weapons while Anette was practicing her Reason magic. He was surprised at first, attempting to back out in apologies, but she had approached him with a hug, and they were at last reunited, before it could have been too late.

Catherine and Shamir were as close as ever, training together, though in the glint of the Lone Moon sun of day, Byleth could see bands of silver upon both of their left hands. She had heard of a small party being held between a few of the Knights of Seiros in a particularly close knit circle, somehow including Alois. The man was never known for his ability to keep a secret, and after a bit of prodding from Claude, had admitted that the two had been bound, so to speak. That left him to recount his own marriage to his wife, and before he could go on another tangent about his family, Byleth had to make an excuse that she had other preparations to uphold, but she couldn’t help but notice the connections in the air. Even Cyril had been preparing, sparring with Lysithea… It seemed war truly did foster trust. 

And of course, there was Sylvain.

The red sun had begun dipping below the mountains on the horizon. Sylvain was brushing his horse, almost seeming to have a conversation with it. Byleth approached quietly, attempting to listen in, amused.

“Come on, Marquis, you can’t blame me! I mean, she’s gorgeous, drop dead! I doubt even the Goddess was that beautiful.” A snort in response from the horse. Of course. Talking of girls. At least he still had his womanizing passions even in the midst of war, yet for some reason it panged her to hear of it. 

“Alright, fine, you’re right. I should just say something, or at least make a move. But how the hell am I supposed to make a move for a woman like that?” He sighed, pausing his brushing. Marquis almost seemed to roll his eyes at Sylvain. 

“Things have never been this hard before. Why is it so much different now?” He rested his head on the horse’s mane, gaining a “huff” from Marquis. Byleth chose now to approach.

“Girl problems, Sylvain?” 

He jumped, startling Marquis in the process, gaining a neigh of upset. His face grew bright red, as he shushed the horse whilst combing his fingers through the fur to calm it. Once all was fine, he turned back to Byleth, his face still red. “Evening, Professor,” he said suavely, a grin forcing itself onto his lips. “You offering help?”

Byleth rolled her eyes and sighed. “Even in the midst of impending battle, you’re still a flirt.”

“Happy to deliver, my lady,” he replied, bowing dramatically. He sighed, leaning against one of the poles of the stable. “Things must be pretty crazy in Faerghus about now. My father must be beside himself. I don’t get it. Why did Edelgard make enemies with the nobles?”

Byleth leaned back across from him, thinking. It didn’t make sense to her, either. “I don’t know,” she admitted.

“Me neither.” He smiled. “I guess even if we  _ did  _ know, what would we do about it?” 

“I guess all we can is prepare as best we can.” She looked up to the sky. The sun had set by now, but it was still dimly lit, colors streaking across the sky, putting everything in a soft glow. She thinks she could remember Jeralt calling this time of day twilight. It literally mean light of two, the moon and sun shining on each other to make this scene. Thinking of Jeralt, she remembered Sylvain had mentioned his own father. “You never talk about home.”

Sylvain chuckled. “You caught that, huh?” A pregnant pause. “He’s the kind of man who expects everything to be perfect. He started training me in the lance as soon as I could walk, and taught me about my Crest as soon as I could talk. And while it was hard on me, it wasn’t nearly as hard on my brother.”

Byleth could remember meeting the current Margrave Gautier after dispatching of the thieves Sylvain was supposed to go about alone. His standards seemed almost as high as the horse he rode in on. He only gave her a second glance once her last name was uttered. People were only worth what they could give to him.

“I’m sorry,” was all she could say. 

“Don’t be. Despite everything, I ended up at the Officer’s Academy at just the right time.” A pause, as he looked in her eyes. “With you.”

They looked at each other for a moment. Byleth didn’t know what to say, and she especially didn’t like the turning of her stomach, the way he made her breath catch with those simple two words. Things seemed to click, then. Was she the one he was talking about to Marquis? “Sylvain,” she breathed, and again, everything happened in a flash.

This kiss was different. It was sweet, lingering, not hard. He gave her a chance to push him away, but when she didn’t, he brought his hand up to her face. When he pulled back, his hand remained, tracing the curve of her cheek. He looked at her like he wasn’t sure she was going to disappear, like she wasn’t real. She unconsciously leaned on her toes to close the space between them again. 

This time was more fervent. He pushed her against the wooden pole, his hand curling in her hair, the other cradling her back. She hooked a leg instinctively against him, and somehow he was even closer. She touched his hair, twirling strands in her fingers. His hair was impossibly soft in her grasp. He parted her lips with his tongue, and before she knew it, they were locked in a dance between them. Another hand absentmindedly roamed from his hair down his neck, to his chest, and  _ oh my Goddess he was sculpted like a statue-- _

A snort interrupted them, and they pulled away in a jump, realizing the compromising position they were in, both of them catching their breath. It was just Marquis, but the reminder that they were very much  _ exposed  _ to any passerby was needed. Byleth turned away, a blush creeping up her cheeks, and she touched her lips with a light hand. Sylvain had backed away, back to the cover of his own pole in the stable, an idiotic grin on his face that very much made him look like a kid who’d stolen his mother’s sweets. Byleth cleared her throat, straightening up. It had begun to rain, just slightly. 

Sylvain peered behind him, almost like he was looking out for enemies. “I think the coast is clear, Professor.”

“Sylvain…”

“I think we can avoid everyone if we make a run for it.”

“Sylvain--”

“Goddess, I can’t  _ believe--” _

“Sylvain!” She exclaimed, cutting him off, her hands on both sides of his face. His cheeks warmed at her touch. “It’s okay,” she whispered, as much for her as it was for him.

He swallowed thickly, nodding. “It’s okay,” he repeated back. He exhaled, closing his eyes, as he realized the weather. “It’s raining.”

“Yes.” She smiled, a half chuckle rising in her chest. “It’s probably going to pour soon.”

“Then allow me, Professor,” he said, taking off his uniform jacket and holding it above her head as a makeshift shield from the water. She rolled her eyes, but couldn’t help the smile playing at the corner of her lips. 

They walked back in silence, electricity between them filling their thoughts. Neither of them wanted to talk about it, neither of them could hardly even  _ think  _ of anything in their hazy minds, and though Sylvain’s jacket kept most of the water away, it had begun to soak through the fabric as the rain picked up. Poor Sylvain was nearly drenched by the time they made it back to her quarters, having run the rest of the way, laughing with delirium, until, of course, they were at her door. The laughter slowly faded away, and Sylvain looked at her again as she opened the door behind her, stepping back slowly, resolve in her eyes. His breath hitched for a moment, as he looked around again, like he could be caught doing something nefarious, but it was just them. He exhaled, and followed, closing the door behind him.

They awkwardly stood there in the small room, dripping onto the wooden floor. What were they supposed to be doing here? Obviously, they  _ knew  _ what to be doing, but… a stagnant air hung between them both. Byleth had never done anything like this before, she’d only even kissed  _ one person  _ before, and he was here, and if the rumors surrounding him were true, he knew exactly what to do here while she clumsily just followed along like a child having her hand held. Despite being (technically) older than him, she felt so much younger, so inexperienced in relation to him. She hated this feeling. She was Byleth Eisner, the Ashen Demon, a master strategist and battlemaster! Why was she so damn nervous?

Unbeknownst to her, Sylvain was on the same sort of track in his mind. He hadn’t ever actually gone “all the way” so to speak; how could he? He couldn’t risk bringing another Crest-bearer into the world, he wouldn’t subject someone else to that life, nor the social climber it would be attached to. But… this was different;  _ she  _ was different. She had grown up without even knowing about Crests, Goddess damn her, but she had grown to like him for  _ him.  _ But even so…

She wasn’t just some other girl. She was the  _ Professor,  _ she was the  _ daughter  _ of  _ the legendary Jeralt Eisner,  _ and she had  _ basically become the Goddess herself.  _ Everything started sinking in. Was it sacrilege for him to have kissed her? Would he be smited for even  _ trying  _ to go anywhere further with her? Just touching her felt like he was ruining something pure with his dirty hands, but when he remembered kissing her he could almost feel her hands in his hair, and… 

They wanted each other. 

But Edelgard’s army was practically barging through the door. They couldn’t risk it. They couldn’t risk anything. But still… they could at least remain at each others’ sides. 

“We should get out of these clothes...” she began, earning her a signature smirk from Sylvain. “So that we don’t catch cold. They’re all wet.”

“Riiiiiiight, right right right,” he said, unbuttoning his shirt as Byleth began unbuckling her armor. “You know, you say that in the comfort of your own room, but you realize I don’t have any dry clothes to change into?”

“Wardrobe, top shelf, I have some old shirts of Jeralt’s.” She smirked. “You don’t think you’re  _ that  _ smooth, do you?”

Her chestplate was finally off, and the instant relief she felt as her muscles relaxed was addictive. She couldn’t help but let out a sigh as she shucked it off to the corner of the room. A choke emerged from Sylvain, who had suddenly found the interior of her wardrobe incredibly interesting, the tips of his ears blooming pink. She approached, squeezing past him to get one of her own shirts, and he caught her by her wrist.

His shirt was unbuttoned, hanging wetly to his chest, and of course he was sculpted of Goddess-damned marble. In contrast to her own toned stomach, his was unmarked by the scarring of battle, all aside from one long ragged scar along his chest going into his neck. He caught her staring at it, and explained sheepishly, “I fell down a well as a kid.” She couldn’t help but chuckle.

But he had now had time to look at her. Her stomach was scarred, her arms and shoulders not smooth like his own skin but ragged and raw. They had long since healed, but sometimes they stung dully at the memories of particular battles. There was one in particular starting at her neck and racking down her back in an angry raised line which he took special interest in. “What hurt you here?” He asked, fingers tracing over it lightly.

“Ah, I also fell down a well, obviously,” she lied jokingly, but he lifted her chin to look at him. She sighed, her eyes looking to the side. “As a kid, I didn’t really have a choice other than to fight. One of the villages we stopped at had a few kids who thought I was creepy, and kicked me down one day. They wanted to cut me to see if I bled like a human or was just stuffed like a doll. They weren’t expecting me to fight back, however. I punched the kid with the knife and it dragged down away from my neck and down my back. I didn’t realize it was there until I got back to the inn covered in blood. Only half of it was my own.”

“I’m sorry that happened.” He looked at her with something akin to pity.

“I’m not.” She turned away, then, pulling a shirt from her drawer and tugging it on. “I can handle myself. Even in my darkest moments, I’ve pulled through on top, because I’m stronger than them. That’s what they’re a reminder of. I lived to tell the tale of them. Others weren’t so lucky.” She turned back to him. “It’s proof I can handle myself.”

“I understand. Seriously,” he said. He held her gaze with genuine care. “I’m sorry if I made you feel like I was pitying you.” He smiled, and pulled on one of Jeralt’s shirts. It was, of course, way too big on him, almost swallowing him, despite the fact that Jeralt was an inch or so shorter. To be fair, Jeralt had the broadest shoulders Byleth had ever seen on a man aside from Raphael, so it made sense. Slightly. He pulled at the loose cloth and gave her a look, leading her to snicker as she shut the drawers to the wardrobe. “I don’t know what I expected.”

“You look fine,” she smirked, turning away. “Hang your wet clothes on the rack so they’ll be dry by the morning.”

“Oh?” He asked, winking suggestively. She rolled her eyes.

“Yes, ‘oh’. I’m not going to make you go back out into the rain, Sylvain. I can sleep on the floor.” She ignored his face of mock disappointment, as she took one of the pillows and one of the blankets from the bed.

“You know… we could sleep together.”

She whirled on him so fast. “Excuse me?”

“I-I mean, we could share the bed. It’s not like we haven’t… well, you know!” He hid his mouth behind his hand.

She had almost forgotten, had her lips not been tingling ever since. But what was the harm? They could share a bed. It might even be… nice. “Okay.”

He looked genuinely surprised. “Okay? Oh, wow, I have never gotten a girl onto a bed that fast-- hey!” He dodged the pillow Byleth had thrown at him. “I was joking!”

“Just shut up and let’s sleep,” she said, sitting down and snuffing the flame of the candle that was beside her bed. All that was left was the dim moonlight filtering through the stormclouds.

They got into the bed, together, and although it was awkward at first, they found they fit together like they were molded that way. Sylvain cautiously placed an arm around her stomach, and she held his hand in encouragement. She let herself lean against him, and he nuzzled his nose against the crook her neck. They could feel each other breathe, and she could feel his rapid heartbeat slow in relax.

“I’ve never done this with anyone before, you know,” he said, the timbre of his voice vibrating against his skin. “Just slept with someone like this.”

She closed her eyes. “I haven’t either,” she admitted. A pause. Two. “Sylvain… this was just a fluke, right? It’s just the emotions of the battle stirring.” Right?

He sighed. “I don’t know. But it’s nice for right now. That’s all I can think about right now.”

She nodded against him, and he lightly kissed her neck, leaving shivers down her spine. 

It was nice for right now.

******************

Byleth jolted awake. Sylvain was still tangled around her, asleep, not having heard it. But she had heard it. Another knock. She pulled herself from his embrace, leading to him sleepily waking himself, rubbing at his eyes. She was already to the door, opening it to see Shamir, breathless, and in her full armor. 

“Shamir. What time is it?” She asked. The sun had just barely begun to peek over the mountaintops.

“It’s almost dawn. I just got back. I came as fast as I could, back to the monastery. I just informed Rhea, Edelgard’s army will arrive at noon at the earliest.”

“And at the latest?”

“Just an hour or two after. We need to get ready.” Shamir was already off before any more questions could be asked. Byleth shut the door, already peeling off her shirt in place of her armor, as Sylvain found his uniform where it had been hanging from the rain. 

They got dressed in silence, a grim aura setting in around them. This was it. Edelgard was here. This was war.

She had just finished lacing her boots when Sylvain grabbed her arm. He looked at her with worry and care and almost begging her not to do what she was supposed to, not to lead the charge. But there wasn’t an alternative choice. She was what was left of Sothis. And she had to be the one to face Edelgard.

The Sword of the Creator was hung from her hip, as she bolted towards the Audience Chamber. Sylvain had agreed to go back to the dorms before the Professors called them, and make any last minute rounds. She flew up the steps, and was greeted by an angry Rhea, as well as a tired Manuela and Hanneman. 

“Shamir, report,” Rhea commanded, and Shamir nodded.

“I went to scout the surrounding woods near the monastery, just past the villages at the base of the mountain. The Imperial army has set up camp, just a few hours away, and their numbers are huge. They have Demonic Beasts in their ranks as well. They have artillery, and they’re planning to go through the villages first.” 

“Her wickedness truly knows no bounds, then,” Rhea hissed, her jaw clenching. “We must evacuate the villages, then, women and children first, away from her path of destruction.”

“But what of the monastery, my lady?” Seteth asked.

“We’ll fortify it as best we can, but the villagers are our first priority. Catherine can lead the fortification, while Gilbert makes sure the rest of the guards are equipped and at the ready. I’ll allow Alois to accompany Shamir for the evacuation, to ensure his family’s safety.” She paused, conflicted. “Professors, any students that don’t want to fight may leave. But those who stay… have them at the ready, as a last resort.” 

They all nodded in agreement, exiting. Rhea’s face seemed unmoving, but her eyes were wild, determined, threatening to crack the facade. Byleth felt a pang of familiarity, before realizing. Her dreams surrounding that old battle, with Nemesis and Seiros herself. She had the exact same demeanor as Seiros did on that battlefield. She shook her head. She wasn’t Seiros. Byleth exited.

****************

It was time. The Imperial Army had torn through their fortifications around the monastery. The sun was red in the sky, bathing everything in a hue fitting for the mood. Alois was pacing in the Reception Hall, waiting for everyone to file in. Byleth stood up front with him. He faced the students. 

“Listen up, everyone! The Imperial army is upon us. If you can fight, pick up a weapon! Everyone else, hurry up and evacuate!” He steeled himself, forcing on his winning smile. “We have the goddess's protection on our side. We have nothing to fear. Victory will be ours!” 

Catherine approached Byleth, touching her arm. She turned to the Knight. “Professor, are you ready?”

Byleth chanced a glance at her students, listening intently to Alois. “Almost.”

“Well, hurry up. I don't need to tell you that the situation is dire. We have some support troops from the local nobles, but the army we're facing is immense. No matter how you look at it, we're at a disadvantage.” She lowered her voice. “To make matters worse, the enemy is being led by Edelgard. Do not underestimate how extraordinary her abilities are.”

Byleth nodded. Many of her students had begun filing out of the hall, to get ready. She overheard Sylvain joke as they exited, “I should’ve made a move on the Imperial princess before things got this far. It could have prevented everything!” Earning a punch from Ingrid and a reprimand from Felix. Yet ghosts of smiles played on their faces.

Claude held back, approaching her instead of preparing. “I wanted to talk to Rhea first, but as expected, that won't be possible.” He sighed. “What did she hope to accomplish at the Holy Tomb? What happened to you as a baby? There are still so many things I need to know. The same goes for the real origin of the Crest Stones and the Heroes' Relics. As for Seiros and Nemesis…just how much of their mythology is true?”

It was strange, hearing someone else voice the thoughts she’d had swirling around her head this whole time. He had read Jeralt’s journal, but that just had stuff relating to what happened to her as a baby. How did she relate to Seiros? “We know so little,” is all she could say in response.

“It's true. But lucky for me, I refuse to die with so much still unknown.” He chuckled, before his face grew serious. “Hey, Teach… All joking aside. Can we possibly survive this battle?”

Every battle was a risk, but this was the entire Imperial army and then some. They had Demonic Beasts. They had the Death Knight, and dark magic, and abilities that she had experienced firsthand. But at the thought of leaving behind her students, leaving behind the life Sothis had protected for her… she knew. “We’ll find a way.”

Claude smiled. “That’s all we can do, right? If we gave up, the God of fate wouldn’t be happy.” Serious. “I'm a lot of things, but I'm not the kind of man to just roll over and die in a place like this. I have my own ambitions to see to. There are things… dreams… that I must see come to fruition. And I've been thinking. I want you to see those dreams realized as well. On top of all that, there are still so many secrets out there, just waiting to be uncovered. We can't let that stand, can we?” He chuckled. “So, Teach… No, scratch that. You're so much more. You're my ally and my friend. Teach… Friend… None of those words quite capture what you've come to mean to me.” He took her hands. “We may not be connected by blood, but I believe our bond goes deeper than that. Now that we know each other, our hearts are connected. Even if our paths diverge and we're forced to say good-bye… I know that we'll meet again. And so, for lack of a better word, I gratefully call you my friend, and I hold fast to the belief that this isn't it for us. No matter who or what you really are, I'll always be on your side. You can't count on much in this world, but you can count on that.”

All of this was a lot to take in. Was Claude… was he in love with her? She had never known someone who believed in her that much, who trusted her that much. He had said all of the right things, the things that should have made her swoon with then genuine truth. But… she didn’t. She took back her hands, instead giving a smile to Claude. “I’m glad to have you as a friend, then.” And she really was.

*****************

Smoke stung at Byleth’s nostrils. Edelgard was charging through, her glowing axe in her hands, yelling orders to her soldiers. All the training at the academy had made her quite the strategist. She had officers at every stronghold, and if they wanted reinforcements, they would have to come face to face against the Death Knight once again.

Byleth took charge, the Sword of the Creator glowing brilliantly in the fog of war, brighter than even the other Heroes’ Relics. She had to fight several people along the way to the Death Knight, who greeted her with enthusiasm. His own weapon was dark, a long scythe that seemed to exude shadow and pain. How many lives had he taken with it? 

“This battlefield is too chaotic… for us to kill each other on…” he breathed, an air of almost-disappointment tinged in his voice. He swung. She caught his scythe.

“How unfortunate,” she replied, her face stoic. 

He got a few hits in, slicing at her arms and her back, but she got more, and he was left to retreat, dropping a dark seal as a token of his respect, as usual. Mercedes was at her in an instant, healing the shallow wounds until she was as good as new. She looked back at the spot where he was before, though. 

“Catherine will be able to pass through here, now, right?” Bernadette asked, her bow drawn taught. “Oh, I hate fighting.”

“Yes. Mercedes, Bernadetta, continue onward. I’ll switch with Caspar and Raphael, and you all can storm with Catherine.” She was off in a flash, cutting her way through. 

Byleth was in the middle of the field, charging forward, towards one of the Demonic Beasts that had been drawn away from its partner. Those with Heroes’ Relics were with her, cutting and slashing. Though the creature could fly, and it was difficult for her to get a hit without using her signature move of Sublime Heaven. Claude and Hilda did not seem to have that issue, Claude shooting from Failnaught and Hilda crushing with Freikugl. The creature got a few hits on them, but in the end, they prevailed. 

From this spot, Byleth could see her students fighting on each side of the battlefield, attempting to flank the princess. Ferdinand was fighting Hubert, Dorothea watching his back and dispelling any attacks he tried to cast on her friend. Hubert fought with a ferocity, betrayal hurt in his eyes. She could just barely make out him threatening their family members in the Empire that they had left behind to protect the monastery. On the other side, Caspar was fighting a general, who was surprised to see him on the field, even calling him a bastard, both of them recognizing each other at the same time. Caspar, remarkably, set it aside and went straight to the attack. She had taught him well. Relationships don’t matter in battle.

She slipped onto the back of Claude’s wyvern, to approach the princess, sliding off when they were just nearby to slice at one of the soldiers, the force of her fall and the heat of her blade knocking him to the ground, dead. She had to roll to the side as she felt the heat of a bolganone spell begin to writhe up, seeing another engulfed in the flames, Sylvain having caught up to them on Marquis. Marianne was approaching as well on Dorte, healing Hilda who had taken an aura before killing a mage. 

Claude, however, was swift. Two well placed arrows, and the lancer and axeman protecting Edelgard were dead. Despite this, Edelgard only seemed amused, the axe in her hands glinting with intent. He slipped from his wyvern, arrow notched, watching Edelgard with an almost pitying eye from a distance. “So, here she is-- Her Majesty-- looking pleased as a dog with a stick. What exactly happened to make you this way?”

She scoffed. “I’m simply seeing through a promise I made to myself a long time ago.” 

Claude raised an eyebrow. “Isn’t this much force excessive? Thanks to you, my  _ own  _ long-held ambitions are nearly destroyed.”

“If you don’t want them destroyed completely, I recommend you turn tail and flee!” She raised her axe, as Claude let loose an arrow, the axe completely eviscerating it. She held her axe, ready to strike at him, ready to kill.

Byleth allowed herself to move forward. No, she ran. The Sword of the Creator caught the blade, as the Professor pushed the almost-king backwards. Their weapons were similar, but… again, while her Sword exuded the power of the Goddess in her hands, Edelgard’s axe radiated that of a beast. 

“I wish you were someone whose heart could be swayed by my words and deeds. If it were so, I would have done anything to make you my ally…” Edelgard frowned behind her axe.

“Even if I was, your actions would only have pushed me further away,” Byleth glared, and stepped aside, making Edelgard lose her balance from the lack of resisting force. Byleth gave a push, and held her sword to Edelgard’s neck. She was sweating at the heat from the weapon. And, to Byleth’s surprise, she smiled.

“You fought well, but now, your fight is over.” She took a breath, and began to shout. “Send in our reserve troops, and give my uncle the signal!” 

A rumbling. In the split second it took for Byleth to look at the commotion from the cliff overlooking a reserve of so many soldiers, even more than she thought was possible, Edelgard was gone, warped away. So, even after all this, she still had more troops. Byleth went to raise the Sword of the Creator, prepared to fight to her last breath, as she felt a hand on her arm.

Rhea walked ahead a dumbfounded Byleth. She turned her head to look at Byleth, a smile on her lips. “Everyone here, young and old, is in your hands.”

What was Rhea doing? Was she really going to sacrifice herself to end the battle? And… why her? Why Byleth? It had to be more than just the fact that she was Goddess-touched. She was hardly qualified. But… looking at her resolve, all Byleth could do was nod, and she sheathed the sword. Rhea turned back to the approaching soldiers, and Byleth ran towards the monastery.

She felt a rush of wind behind her, and when she looked back, she saw a dragon, taking flight into the air, the same mint green as her hair. Byleth kept running, though. “Away from the monastery, now!” She yelled to the students remaining. “Evacuate!”

Students followed her directions. She chanced a look back at the battlefield. The dragon-- Rhea, was fighting, but four Demonic Beasts were in their midst, only half her size. She couldn’t defeat them alone. And Byleth understood what she was meant to do. She put her hand on her sword.

“Byleth, what are you doing? Let’s get out of here!” Sylvain yelled, grabbing her arm. She shook it off, stepping forward. Another step.

“Rhea’s got this! Come on!” 

She shook her head. “No. I have to go. I have to help her.”

Sylvain tried to grasp her again. “Why? It doesn’t always have to be you!”

She gave a sad smile. “I wish that were true.” She shook him off one last time, and took off running.

She had to make it in time, she could make it in time. She felt the power around her, almost speeding her up, whipping at her hair. She could feel the power of her, in tune with her sword, alighting her. 

Rhea had decimated a huge portion of the soldiers. It was then that they let the Demonic Beasts charge. She knocked one aside, but the other three leapt, grabbing her and holding her down. Rubble was crashing onto her, and she was screaming in agony as they ripped at her flesh. Byleth unleashed her sword, and swung, hitting a beast in the forehead, where its Crest Stone sat. Rhea threw it off, into the ravine below, giving her the advantage to remove the other two, who were quickly crushed by rubble. Rhea took flight, landing in front of Byleth. Her wounds were smoking, but her scales had already begun to stitch back together.

“Why did you come?” Rhea asked, bewildered.

Approaching footsteps. She whipped her head behind her. Leading the charge was a tall man, skin paper white, like Kronya and Solon, emanating an intensely dark aura. He smiled at her, and lifted his hand. An orb of dark magic threw itself towards her, and she lifted her sword. 

The spell didn’t reach her, the sword acting as a barrier, but it pushed her back. She could feel the dirt and rubble disintegrating beneath her feet at the force and speed she was being thrown back. At last, she sliced, and the orb was dispelled. The force of it, however, caused her to lose her footing, and when she went to step back to regain her balance, nothing was there. 

The rubble beneath her gave way, and she plunged down, into the depths of the ravine. Rhea screamed in anguish, and it was the last thing Byleth could see as she plummeted deeper and deeper, into unconsciousness, into her final resting place, into death.


End file.
